The Unhinged Crimson
by Natalie Stone
Summary: When Jack the Ripper strikes it's up to Arthur with the help of Alfred to hunt him down. Can the two catch Jack before these horrific murders continue? Rated T for language, gore, and France. But hey it is Jack the Ripper!
1. Chapter 1

So this is going to be a multi-chapter story of mine based in 1888 London, the time of Jack the Ripper. I've been wanting to write a mystery case involving England and America (or Arthur and Alfred. Which ever you prefer.) for quite some time now. And tada! I got the first chapter done! I've got a lot more to write! I have a plan and outline for everything I want to happen, now there's just the problem of putting all the pieces together. Anyways I hope you guys really like it! I'll be working on the next chapter and have that posted here hopefully very soon! Enjoy! ^^

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><p>The Unhinged Crimson<p>

Swoosh…thwack! Swoosh… thwack! Swoosh… thwack!

"Good god Alfred! Would you please stop playing with my darts?" I yelled at the blue eyed American, casually throwing my darts against the dart board hanging from my wall. Alfred had a unique ability for annoying the living life out of me. Whether it was messing with my belongings or poking fun at my cooking, he always knew how to irk me. That twit.

"I don't even know why you bothered coming to London in the first place. You know I'm busy."

"I just wanted to see you Arthur." Alfred replied. He set down the darts on the coffee table that lied in the center of the room and walked up towards my desk. My head was propped up by my hand as I shifted through the papers scattered about on my desk.

"What are you working on?" Alfred poked his head over my shoulder and peered over my papers.

"Nothing involving you." I replied bluntly.

"Can I help you Arthur?" His question caught me by surprise. This daft git wanted to help me?

"As if I'd let a bloody tosser like you help me in matters as important as this!"

"Aw please Arthur!" The American reached passed me and grabbed my stack of papers, quickly inspecting them.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" I flailed my arms and tried to snatch back the stolen documents in hopes that I might get them back, but that bloody git already wandered over to the window that looked out to my well maintained garden.

"Jack the Ripper?"

"Yes Jack the Ripper! Now give me my papers you damn wanker!" I jolted from my chair and approached the American still perusing through the stack of papers.

"Whoa… did this guy really murder that woman like that?" Alfred questioned, now visibly disgusted as he handed back the descriptive report to me. I snatched them back and sighed. It was beyond my ability to comprehend how someone can mutilate a person like this. To go in and cut up a person one doesn't even know. Sure Mary Ann Nichols, the Ripper's victim, was a prostitute but that was, by NO means, reason to murder the poor girl, let alone rip her innards out! This disgusted me. It rotted me to my core. Jack the ripper must be stopped!

"Yes… he did. You see, Scotland Yard has been trying to identify and locate Jack, unfortunately without prevail. That's why I'm looking into the case. It is my duty as a country to keep my citizens safe. I can't very much do that with a crazed psychopathic murderer running rampant on the streets of London now can I?"

"No, I guess not. But who said you had to do this all alone? Sounds like you could use a hero's help!" Alfred's face went from utter disgust to that stupid perky grin he almost always wore. Oh my. The thought of that blasted idiot helping me catch a notorious knife wielding mutilator frightened me greatly.

"No I don't need any help. Especially from you. End of discussion."

Before Alfred could respond the doorbell rang. I excused myself and descended down the stairs. I opened the door to see Detective Abberline. He was the lead detective on the Jack the Ripper case. He stood at my door with a worried expression sprawled across his face. He yanked at a strand of his reddish-brown hair protruding from underneath his top hat.

"Arthur, sorry to bother you but we found another one. She was found around six o' clock this morning on Durnwar Street in Whitechapel. Just like Mary Ann Nichols, the first victim, the throat has been severed by two cuts. The abdomen was slashed entirely open."

God not another one. How many women did Jack intend to dismember?

"I'll be there at once. Allow me to gather my belongings and I will meet you there Abberline."

"Very well. I will see you there then." Abberline tipped his hat and left the doorstep, walking off to Whitechapel. I sighed and turned back up the stairs to gather my papers and notebooks. Once up on the stair landings, I found Alfred standing there, staring at me with those bright blue eyes. How much had he heard?

"So another woman has been murdered?" He asked me. His smile had left him and had been replaced with a morose frown. I can't help to feel infuriated that he had listened into Abberline's conversation, but I was in far too much of a hurry to lash out at him.

"Yes. I must get going, so if you'll excuse me." I sped past the tall American and grabbed the documents I was previously fighting with Alfred to get back. I hurried down the stairs and was almost out the door when Alfred grabbed the sleeve of my coat.

"Can I come Arthur? Please! I know I can help! I promise I won't get in the way." Ugh! This guy was like a child. A silly, puppy-dog like, child with nothing better to do then annoy me.

"Fine! I really must be going now, so you better not get in my way once we're over there Alfred or I swear I'll ring your bloody neck! Do you understand?" I snapped at him. I had no time to argue or debate with him, so this irritating American is going to end up following me to the crime scene. God this is going to be a long day.

"Do you understand?" I asked him once more while waving my finger in front of his face. He flinched slightly and nodded his head.

"Good. Now let's get going."

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><p>First chapter! What do you think?<p>

Im currently working on the second one. Im a little stuck (Yeah. Im already stuck. Im kinda pathetic...Oh well.) But I think i've got a concept of what I want for it! So i'll keep at it and get that posted ASAP! Hope you all like it!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2! Yay! I finally finished that! So the way I'm planning on writing this out will be from Arthur and Alfred's perspective. It'll switch every other chapter, just to clarify that now. I'll also be trying to update another chapter every friday so keep an eye out for that! So let me know what you think! Hope you all like it! Enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

September 8, 1888 was a cloudy and chilly day. The breeze hit my face as I followed Arthur to the crime scene. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about this. After all, I've never really been to a crime scene before, and after reading the files Arthur had about the first murder I really wasn't looking forward to this, but I want to help Arthur in any way possible. It is what a hero was supposed to do after all, to help those in need. And though Arthur would never admit to it, I know he needed help with this. This is too much for one guy to handle. Sure there where other detectives around, but who do you think was pulling all the weight on the investigation? Arthur.

We walked further along the paved streets of London until we arrived at the Whitechapel crime scene around 7 o'clock A.M. Upon our arrival, Abberline led us to the grotesque murder. Victim number two, Annie Chapman, lay upon the doorstep of 29 Hansbury in a pool of blood. From what it looks like, her abdomen was slashed entirely open and her intestines were strung out, like lights, for the whole world to see. Her throat was slit and the blood from the deep, jagged, wound coated her swollen face. Does being swollen mean there was a struggle? Did Jack strike her down, slit her throat and then mutilate her?

What ever happened here, regardless the order, it made me want to vomit. How can anyone do this to another living breathing human being, to run a blade through a person? I guess this is why Arthur didn't want me to come. One thing is for sure though, if I'm feeling this shaken up and nauseated from the crime scene, Arthur must feel the same way, along with the rest of the police force here.

Arthur walked passed me and began to scrutinize every detail of the horrific scene. I mimicked his movements (much to his distain) in hopes of something catching my eye. Unfortunately, I'm not able to deduce much. I turn away from the corpse, light headed and revolted, leaving Arthur to inspect the remains. Maybe there's clues left from Jack that I could look for that the police might have missed! It has to be better then examining those remains. I wandered away from the doorstep to investigate the rest of the blocked of sector of the Whitechapel crime scene. From what I see, there's trash lying about and a couple of crates resting against the row of shabby buildings. I see nothing of interest about the crates and was just about to explore another part of the scene, when I saw a little green stem protruding behind the empty crates. Curious to see what it was, I made my way to the crates and reached for the little green twig. Picking it up, I realized the green stem turned out to be a grape vine! It's strange to see a grape vine here, considering grapes where really only available to the wealthy. Hmm… possible clue? Maybe Arthur would know!

"Hey Arth…"

"Alfred. Come here! Do you see these?" Arthur interrupted, while pointing to each of the large gashes on the disfigured body. I set the small vine down and walked over to Arthur, wondering what he had to say.

"What? The gashes? I think that's kind of obvious…"

"No! I mean what else do you notice about each laceration?"

"Umm…." I pondered. What did he want me to see? It's a gaping wound that was caused by a knife of some sort, what more was there to it?

"For god's sake Alfred, use your head! Look! Each laceration is jagged, yes, but I don't think just any old knife could have caused this. The knife that had been used to slaughter this woman as well must have been very sharp. Judging by the depth of each incision, I'm guessing the blade must have been about six to eight inches in length. Not just anybody off the streets could've done this. Each incision is too... precise. Abberline had also informed me, not to long ago that the uterus had been removed, with that in mind it's safe to assume that Jack has medical knowledge."

Okay, I'm impressed. I don't think I would've been able to figure that all out just by looking at each wound. Then again, I doubt I would have been able to look at the victim for very long without feeling ill.

"So Jack's got medical knowledge huh? Hmm…well I guess that would narrow the list of suspects down, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Arthur replied as he turned away from the bloody corpse. Soon after, a team of medical examiners came and cleaned up the scene, which included taking the bloody and mutilated corpse to the morgue where it would then undergo an autopsy.

Abberline, caring various papers and notebooks, approached Arthur once again, and handed him a list of some sort, which Arthur examined carefully. From there, Arthur walked passed me without a word, away from the crimson crime scene and into the crowded streets of London. I broke into a brisk jog to catch up to the Brit.

"Where are we going?" I asked him curiously. Arthur's gaze remained straight ahead and he gradually quickened his pace, making it that much harder to keep up with.

"Witnesses Alfred. We are going to talk to witnesses within the area. There are five on our list, the first one being a Ms. Elizabeth Long of 32 Church Street Whitechapel."

With the hustle and bustle of the foggy London streets and the plethora of passer-bys, we maneuvered our way to each one of the addresses of the witnesses.

The first two, Elizabeth Long and John Davis, claimed they saw Chapman with a tall man of maybe late thirties to early forty's. They didn't give much of a description, but being dark at the time; I really didn't expect them to have a full descriptive report of the guy.

The next two witness's accounts of Chapman went about the same way, claiming they saw her the night of the murder with a tall man around forty years old. This woman was a prostitute, so I figured seeing her with a forty year old didn't seem too out of the ordinary for them. I just hope witness number five can tell us something that will get us closer to finding out who this Jack guy really is!

Arthur and I walked up and knocked on the door of 30 Dorset Street, waiting eagerly outside.

"Man, I hope she says something different than the other witnesses. We didn't even get a good description of the guy!"

"Quite your useless prattling Alfred. It's not going to do us any good." Arthur replied, his eyes fixated upon the door.

"You seem eager yourself though! Don't pretend your not." His emerald eyes met my blue and just as he was about to reply, the door opened revealing a short, stout, woman who looked to be around her late forties, her graying hair was in a bun, pinned to the back of her head. She looked nervous as she opened the door of the dank little house.

"Ms. Chappell?" Arthur asked the wiry woman.

"Yes. Do come in. Do come in. You two must be with the police." She answered Arthur as she ushered us both into a dismal looking sitting area within the small house. One petite window looked out from the dimly lit sitting room into the foggy streets of the busy London skyline. The room, itself, was adorn in peculiar little knickknacks that rested upon shelves and tables. Arthur and I sat on a couch that was set in front of a cluttered coffee table in the center of the room. As we took our seats Arthur introduced himself.

"I am Arthur Kirkland."

"Alfred F. Jones."

"We're with the Metropolitan Police department and the Scotland Yard," Arthur proclaimed without missing a beat. "We understand you saw a peculiar fellow last night prior to Ms. Chapman's murder?"

Ms. Chappell sat on the couch opposite the one we were seated upon and sighed slowly.

"Yes. I couldn't see him all that well but from what I saw, he was a tall bloke. Maybe even well dressed."

Great. More of the same thing. I'm pretty sure I've heard this story four other times today. I wonder If Arthur is thinking the same thing.

"But there was something else I saw. Not so much the man himself, but the carriage he was in beforehand."

What? A carriage? I glanced over at Arthur, His green eyes meeting my blue once again. At that instance, I knew we were thinking the same thing, no other witness had mentioned this before!

"It was… nice. Twasn't like most of 'em that come 'round these parts. Was all fancily done, nice looking exterior, maybe a nobles?"

Nobles? Like the rich folk or higher up! Okay, well this exceeds any expectations I had on this witness! I'm filled with excitement now! I want to get out there, track down suspect, arrest this guy, and be a hero! I leaped off the couch and proposed my amazing plan to Arthur, that we should go out and start rounding up suspects!

"Alfred! For god's sake sit down! We're not done here yet!"

Apparently he didn't find this the best idea… I sat back down and semi-listened to Arthur question Ms. Chappell further. I sat mostly in a daze, thinking of suspects and motives, bad guys and justice, catching Jack and being the hero of course!

"Well thank you Ms. Chappell, for all of your help. We greatly appreciate it Madame." That was my indication Arthur had finished up with the questions.

"Yeah! Defiantly! Thanks loads!" I exclaimed excitingly, breaking up the formal, stuffy, humdrum mood of the conversation. The British man sighed, with aggravation visible on his face, and continued.

"We will leave you be now Ms. Chappell. Good day." Arthur tipped his hat and started to walk outside of the dreary little house

It was already night time when we went back out into the Whitechapel district of London, the chilly air hit us once again as we descended down the paved roads of the slums.

"Now do we get to round up suspects?" I asked with a smile forming across my face, happy that we finally get to go out to the action.

"Well, something like that, I think first things first however. We need to form a list of suspects, and what better place is there to form such a list other than the Metropolitan Police Department's room of records!" Arthur answered back proudly. We both continued to walk down to the roads to the department, determined to catch Jack.

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><p>There you have it! Chapter 2! What do you guys think? Im a little if-y my self about it... anyways the next chapter is on its way! I hope you guys liked it!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 finally up! Sorry I was a little late with this one, school got in the way a lot. Anyways, I hope you all like it! Im very happy to say France is going to be in this for a while now! He wasn't in this one a whole lot but he's going to be! He's so much fun to write! So let me know what you guys think! I'll have the next chapter up ASAP!

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

_List of alibis for_ _September 8_

_Montague John Druitt- Medical school _

_experience._

_In Scotland on the 8th of _

_September visiting relatives _

_Dr. John Williams- At home around the time of _

_the murder. Family can attest _

_to that. _

_Alois Szemerdy- He knew Annie Chapman, and_

_worked at a London college of _

_medicine. Was at the college_

_During the murder with the other _

_Professors. A strong alibi._

_Joseph Barnett- At home with his wife at the time _

_of Murder. Father was a medical _

_practitioner. _

My list of notes over the suspects when on and on, from one man to another, I pulled each of the alibis in the files that rested upon the floor next to me. Alfred and I have been seated here for about two hours perusing through lists of doctors of the Whitechapel district, taking anything we found pertinent out of the files and then documenting them.

I Skimmed through the records and pulled a _Dr._ _George Morris. _As I read through his bio, I pretended to listen to Alfred go on about a strange conspiracy about aliens or some other nonsense.

_Hmm…. Where was he during the murder? Ah, the hospital. Well I guess that crosses him off the list._

I was amazed at how fast the police were able to record all of these doctors' alibis once I concluded Jack had medical experience. They must have recorded it all while Alfred and I were questioning witnesses.

"Ugh! This is going nowhere! Can't we just go out and arrest these guys?" Alfred complained. He was sprawled out onto the floor next to me, feet and legs resting up against the filling cabinets, and back against the dark wooden floors. He had his left arm awkwardly lying perpendicular to the rest of his body while his right held up a file that was a few inches from his face. His eyes looked dull behind his glasses and his mouth gaped open in boredom.

"First of all, no we can't. We need solid evidence to convict one of murder. How would you like it if a policeman where to arrest you simply because you where a doctor? And second of all, sit up! Are you trying to ruin your coat?"

"Okay mother. Hey did you find anything yet?"

"No, not hardly. Well nothing useful anyways. Out of the list of suspects I have written down here, all of them have an alibi." I sighed, this was depressing and frustrating.

The American across from me sat up from his place on the floor and inched his way over to where I was sitting.

"Can I see the list?" I shifted through the papers that where scattered about until I found the list, and handed it to him.

"Hmm… Let's see here. Montague John Druitt… Dr. John Williams… Alois Szemerdy…. Joseph Barnett… Lewis Carroll? What the? You mean the writer?"

"Yes, I wouldn't ask. Anyways, all of the men on here have a solid alibi." I drew silent after that and tried to focus on the files in front of me. My head throbbed and my eyes burned, but I couldn't stop looking for answers. Nobody was going to get a way with such a dastardly crime! Not in my country at least!

"Ha I'm surprised Francis isn't on the list!" Alfred stated boisterously.

"Huh?" He couldn't actually be suggesting Francis. Not the country Francis!

"Francis as in the Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Well yeah. I mean I wouldn't be surprised if he was a suspect."

"Alfred don't be so ridiculous! That's absolutely absurd! I don't even think he's in England!"

"No actually, I think he and a bunch of the others are here for the World Fair!"

_World fair? Damn that's right! The World Fair is taking place in London this year! So does this mean Francis should be written down on the list of suspects? No, no, no! That's absolutely preposterous! Utter rubbish! Sure the guy is a creepy pervert, but that doesn't make him a killer right? I mean I could see him doing prostitutes, but not actually killing them! _

Though I blatantly dismissed this idea, the thoughts still lingered in my mind. Why? I

didn't even think Francis had any medical experience.

After some time, I yawned and turned away from the tedious files while I reached for

my pocket watch in my waistcoat pocket. 12:37 A.M.

"I suppose it's high time we head home. Don't you agree Alfred?"

"Oh haha yeah I guess so! You worn out old man?" I shot Alfred a sharp look and quickly corrected him.

"I'm not that old you twit! Now let's get going! Being half asleep while investigating is going to benefit no one." I rose up from the floor and stuck each file back into its proper cabinet, still mildly depressed that all of this searching has really gotten us nowhere. After that, we walked out of the police department and headed back to my house

in silence. It was strange that Alfred was silent. Hmm… I guess even the high-strung American can get tired.

I walked up to my front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside, with Alfred sleepily following behind.

"Night Arthur." The American said in the midst of a yawn.

"Goodnight." I replied as we both parted ways, Alfred heading to the guest room on the bottom floor, and myself climbing the stairs up to my bed room. Once there, I un-dressed and climbed into bed, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Normally I don't dream, or if I do I can't remember them, but that night I could remember every vivid detail of a nightmare that plagued me.

I was standing in a dark alley, a thick fog surrounded scene and it had just begun to drizzle. A little light shined through the shrouds of darkness at the end of the long, dank, alley. With nowhere to go and no clue where I was at, I decided to see where this light was coming from. Rain drops hit the skin of my face slowly working their way down my cheeks, as I gradually approached the light source. Once at the end of the alley, I saw that it had opened up into a cramped area blocked off on all sides by tall skyscraper-like walls. Directly in front of me was a light fixture dangling from one of the dark grey walls. It's yellow beams shined onto a tall silhouetted man (who's back was facing me) leaning over a bloody disfigured woman bathed in crimson blood, which painted the ground in the dark red substance as well. The shadowy specter was still slashing away at the undistinguishable woman with a giant rusted scalpel. My eyes widened in shock and utter repulsion as the blood trickled, like a stream, further and further away from the body and towards my feet.

"Oh my God." I stammered under my breath.

The silhouetted man, or Mr. Jack the Ripper, whipped around to see me. I tried to move, to run away from him, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I stood there, petrified and helpless, when Jack slowly raised the scalpel that was still dripping in blood, up from the corpse of the woman and lunged at me with incredible speed. His face, the face I recognized to be that of Francis Bonnefoy, was a mere few inches away from mine as he plunged the blade deep into my chest. His blue eyes burned into mine, with an unhinged madness, he smiled and let me drop to my knees. Blood emerged from underneath my shirt and vest as I gasped for breath and fumbled for the handle of the scalpel. The feeling of falling then overcame me and I slowly shut my eyes. Everything had faded to black but image of Francis's blue eyes were still etched in my mind, still staring at me with that same insane glint of madness.

I woke that morning with yet another pair of blue eyes staring at me, but instead of that blood lust I saw in that horrific dream… no, horrific nightmare, I saw concern, worry even.

"Arthur? You okay?"

"Alfred! What are you doing in my room?" I sprung up from my bed and glared at Alfred who was previously leaning over me.  
>"You were talking and yelling in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay."<p>

"Well I appreciate your concern, but I'm just fine thank you very much."

"Oh, haha alright! If you say so! Being a hero and all I just wanted to make sure!" From concern to that big stupid grin, Alfred's expressions changed within a blink of an eye. Him and that damn hero-complex…

"I'm quite alright as you can see; now if you don't mind, I have to get ready. I've got a long day a head of me.

Alfred left the room and I proceeded to ready myself for the day, reminiscing on the horrific nightmare from that night.

_That French bastard as Jack is a scary thought, but what are the odds that he actually is? It hardly seems logical. I bet he even has a good alibi for the time of the murders as a well! Hmm… maybe I should check….just to satisfy my curiosity. Yes! That's what I'll do! Just check up on him! Then maybe I can get those thoughts of a scalpel wielding Francis out of my head!_

That whole day, from 10 A.M. to 6 P.M., was spent at Scotland Yard, discussing the similarities and relations of the two victims. Abberline led the discussing and jotted every similarity down on a large chalkboard.

"Both were prostitutes!" Alfred was first to speak, and the first to point out the obvious. Abberline wrote it on the board and more detectives begun to speak up.

"Cause of death? They both had their throats slit and then where both torn apart."

"Both died in the east end of Whitechapel."

"Weren't they both in their 40's too?"

Abberline added them to the list on the board and more similarities were pointed out. Diving into each of the women's personal life, it turns out that the women were constant drunks (which I suppose that would make them an easier target for Jack if they were always drunk) and estranged from their families. One more curious point that was brought up, that confirmed Jack as a doctor (or at least was a workingman) was the times of death. Annie Chapman was killed around 6 A.M. on a Saturday while Mary Ann Nichols was killed around 4 to 5 A.M. on a Friday. Early mornings and the weekends, the hours would lead anyone to believe that Jack was a workingman.

After the similarities were noted, suspects were brought up. The list of doctor that I had looked through were examined once more, some new names where mentioned and their alibis were studied. Most of which held up, however there were some seemingly weak alibis. Among these were a Mr. George Hutchinson and Dr. Joseph Sadler. Hutchinson said he was at his home during both of the murders but has no one who can confirm it. Dr. Joseph Sadler was at his office but left around 6 A.M. and returned at 7:45 A.M. A couple of the Metropolitan Police and Scotland Yard agents were sent out to investigate these men while the rest stay behind and examine any evidence (which was hardly any) that was left at the scenes. It was this time when I seized the opportunity to slip away from Scotland Yard and set off to scope out a certain Frenchman.

I managed to slip away from them all, (Even Alfred, who was preoccupied with telling Abberline, who looked dreadfully aggravated, about a grape stem as evidence or some other nonsense.) quite easily.

8:39 P.M. I spent nearly an hour already trying to find this guy! Why was he so hard to find? I figured he would have been at an inn by this time of night and would be staying close by the world fair (considering that's why he's in London), but I haven't had a bit of luck finding him! What I failed to realize was how many hotels where in the area in the first place! Hotel after hotel, I was beginning to loose hope. That is until I checked the last hotel on my list, The Grosvenor Hotel near Victoria Station.

I walked through the front doors of the lavished hotel passing a couple of guests conversing in the lobby, and up to a morose looking bloke leaning onto the concierge desk.

"Is Francis Bonnefoy staying here?" The man only glared at me suspiciously.

"I'm with Scotland Yard."

"Did he do something?"

"Only suspected." I answered back. The scruffy man sighed and told me the room he was in. Perfect! Now I can finally satisfy my curiosity! I briskly walked by the desk and up the stairs, set to the left of the front desk, and up to the rooms on the upper levels.

There where 3 doors in front of the stairs once you walk up, the door on the left was the one belonging to Francis. I knocked on it and waited outside for a minute before the door opened.

"Arthur! Bonjor mon amour! To 'vat do I owe zee pleasure? Come in come in!"

I walked into Francis's room that was cluttered with various articles of clothing and a suitcase was set open on the bed which was placed on the center of the room. Next to the bed was a small side table with a couple of books on it. From what it looked like, the titles were _La Revue Medicale Francaise_ and _La Medecine Pratique et le Diagnostic Medical_. I'm not an ace at the French language but I think the books read _The_ _French Medical Journal_ and _Practical Medicine and Medical Diagnosis._ Medical journals! I don't usually jump to conclusions but I think this is an important clue behind the truth of Jack's identity, the truth whether or not Francis is Jack! And by the looks of it my curiosity and suspicions were correct!

"Francis, where were you on Saturday September 8th around 6 A.M.?"

"HonHonHon 'vy do you vant to know? Shouldn't you be asking about ze future? Just zink of it Arthur! Just you and me and…"

"Just answer the question frog face!"_ Ugh! I hate this guy! Can't he just answer the question?_

"Someone's a little testy now aren't zey? HonHonHon no worries my friend! I find it to be very cute!"

"Would you please just answer the damn question?" _I swear I'm going to rip this guys head off! It's amazing how much this guy can tic me off!_

"'Vy I vas valking to zee vorld fair of course!"

s"Do you have anyone who can confirm that?"

"Oh… hmm… No I don't zink so. Vy?"

"Various reasons. Um Francis if you don't mind me asking, why do you have those medical journals with you?"

"Vat? Oh those! It's for zee vorld fair! Zey are doing presentations on medicine and I thought it'd be a good idea to study up on those things. Vy?"

"Just wondering. Well I must be off Francis. Good day." Francis looked puzzled as I turned away and exited the room, closing the door behind me_._

_I think he's done it! Without a doubt! With no one to confirm it, his alibi can't hold up! All I need to do now is find some solid evidence! It feels so good to make such a discovery, to be able to go after Jack! Hmm… I wonder how I'm going to be able to get that evidence I need. I'm most certainly not going to let another women die in order to catch him in the act! That, I promise, I won't let happen! _

I sauntered home, with strategies forming in my head as to how exactly to catch Francis without making it obvious I know about his devious crimes. I entered into my house with a worried Alfred rushing to greet me.

"Hey! Where were you? I was worried Jack got you!"  
>"Are you implying I look like a prostitute? And Alfred I have something I need to tell you!" I grew excited as I told him every detail about Francis's alibi and the books in his room. Both captivated and enthralled, Alfred listened intently to every word I said.<p>

"Ha! I knew my theory was right! So how are we gonna catch him? We need proof right?"

_Hmm… we could break into his room and find some proof. Then again, I don't think Francis would be foolish enough to leave bloody scalpels lying about…he is after prostitutes so I wonder if… Oh! By Jove I think I've got it!_

"Hey Alfred?" I asked him. I could feel my lips curve into a smile that stretched across my face, almost showing my teeth.

"Huh?"

"What dress size are you?"

"I dunno wh-No. Oh no! Oh hell no!"

"Please Alfred," I whined.

", if he really is Jack then he's going to go after prostitutes. We can catch him this way and arrest him on the spot! I promise I'll stop him before he tries anything!"

"No way in hell! I'm not dressing like a prostitute! Why can't you do it? Your thinner and smaller then me!"

_I think its now time to use that hero-complex of his to my advantage!_

"I thought you said you wanted to help me Al… to be a hero?" Alfred's expressions made me want to burst out in laughter, his eyes widened in shock and his mouth turned into a frown that was almost as large as his grins, it was a battle to force back my gleeful little chuckles.

"But… I… Ugh! Fine… I'll do it… BUT YOU BETTER NOT TELL ANYONE!"

"I promise. You have my word." I reassured him; my grin now increased showing all of my front teeth. _God I love getting my way._


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! I apologize for how long this took me to post, school has been getting in the way a lot and with all the tests coming up it's been hard to write recently. Regardless there shouldn't be any excuse. So sorry guys. To be honest I'm not very sure I like this chapter. Let me know what you guys think. If its crap, feel free to let me know and I'll scrape this one and re-do it. Anyways, enough of my excuses and complaints, I hope you guys like this, Fem!America (Possibly? Im not sure if this one would count or not since its just Al in costume)is on this one! Hope you all enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Sunday Morning September 30, 1888

"Come on Al, you look *giggle giggle* fine!"

"No way! I refuse!"

"Alfred just come out! We got to work on your mannerisms."

"Manner what?"

"The way you move, act, and behave. Now please come out of the bathroom."

After Arthur came back home claiming that he had suspicions about Francis Bonnefoy being the culprit behind these murders, he proposed a very humiliating scheme to catch him in the act without any more women dying in the process… that scheme was to dress me as a harlot and prance around London until Francey-pants makes a move to kill me. _Yeah great plan Arthur. _

So there I stood in Arthur's bathroom, sighing as I saw my reflection in the full-view mirror mounted on the wall. Light blue, frilly, long sleeved dress, wavy mid-length wig, make-up, no glasses; I looked like a British prostitute. A convincing British prostitute at that. I swear once this is over I'm going to fucking kill Arthur.

"Alfred?" Arthur chimed in a playful yet nagging tone.

"Alright already! I'm coming out, but you better not laugh!"

"I won't! You have my word!" I sighed again as I caught another glance of my disgraceful appearance and put my hand on the doorknob, hesitant to pull the door open.

"Oh Alfred?"

I twisted the knob, closed my eyes, and walked out of the safe haven of the bathroom.

Thud! Arthur had hit the floor with roars of

Laughter. _And he said he wouldn't laugh, yeah _

_Right!_

"Oh aren't you a pretty girl!" More wails of

Laughter continued to spout from Arthur's mouth before he continued to tease me.

"Hahahaha maybe instead of Alfred, I should call you Amelia!"

I could feel my face flush a bright red underneath the pounds of make-up. Agitated

and embarrassed, I retreated back to the bathroom in hopes to drown out the hysterical Brit.

"I'm taking this off!"

"Aw but Amelia, I mean Alfred, I can't catch Jack without you young lady!"

"I don't care! If you wanna bust Jack via dressing like a prostitute, be my guest!"

"What if I said if I wouldn't laugh at you anymore?"

_Gee wouldn't that be nice... If only he would've kept his word about not laughing the first time._

"Nu-uh! This is embarrassing and totally not heroic!"

"Sure it is! You're helping save another woman's life by doing this. Please Alfred. I'm not going to laugh. I promise."

"What if I die doing this then?"

"You're not going to die; I'll be close by monitoring you both. Once I catch him in the act, I'll arrest him before any harm befalls you."

_Do I dare step out of the bathroom? Arthur's words do sound reassuring and I guess I'll just have to trust him, but that's the thing, do I really trust him to stop Francis alone in a room with me looking like this? _

"Glad you came out! Now let's get started!"

_Apparently I did trust the smiling Brit in front of me. Let's hope I'm not mistaken. _

"Stand up straight! No slouching. Chin up! Don't walk so much like a man. Shoulders back. Honestly Al, you'll never make a convincing woman." And that's pretty much all I heard that afternoon, Alfred do this, Alfred do that, don't be such a bloody wanker Alfred! _God,__he's like a bee! A little bee constantly buzzing in my ear!_

I really had no clue that there were so many steps involved in becoming an imitation prostitute. First step was posture, which Arthur was very strict about. He said I'll never pass off as a convincing harlot if I don't stand up straight. The next step was accents. I always thought British accents looked pretty easy to imitate… I was mistaken.

"BrothA."

"Brothea?"

"No! Repeat after me. BroTHA!"

"BroTHA!"

"Ugh, close enough…"

After some practice, I managed to get the accent down for the most part; however, there was the occasional word that sounds more New Yorker then British. For example, vitamin and glacier are one of those words I can't say to save my life. Oh well, what are the odds that vitamins and glaciers are going to pop up in a conversation with Francis.

The next few steps involved confronting the Frenchmen and what to do when alone with him, which was to stall as much as I could and if he pulled a blade I was to dodge and avoid until Arthur came in and arrested him. _I hope that his plan works, because I really don't feel like being chopped into bits. _

"Can we take a break? We've been at this all day." I whined. At this point I was utterly fed up with that stupid outfit and learning how to move and behave and I was tired of that smirk Arthur had etched on his face. I knew he was trying to fight back laughing at me and my mistakes, but he wasn't doing a very good job.

"Yes, I suppose so, but its going to have to be a quick break. Tonight, we've got a ripper to catch."

Early Morning September 27, 1888

September 27, three days prior to the day we attempted to catch Jack and the day Arthur got home from talking to Francis and proposed his harlot plan, we both went straight to bed to a relatively dreamless night after a long discussion about Arthur's scheme.

"Alfred… Alfred! Hey wake up!" I raised my head from underneath a pillow to see Arthur jostling me awake.

"Arthur? What are you doing up? What time is it?"

"6. We are going to the Grosvenor Hotel. Francis leaves for the World Fair soon, I think during this time I might have an opportunity to look through his hotel room and possibly find some evidence against him."

"His room?"

"Yes Alfred, now hurry." Arthur called back as he exited the room heading for the front door. I jumped out of bed (dressed in my clothes from yesterday that I must have accidentally fallen asleep in) and franticly looked for my shoes, one underneath the bed and the other besides the dresser. _Ugh, its times like these that make me wish I was more organized. _I slipped my right shoe on and tried to slip the left on while sprinting out the door to meet a very impatient Brit waiting outside.

"Did you sleep in your day clothes? Shirt un-tucked, pants wrinkled, vest undone, bloody hell Alfred you're a mess,"

_Only 6 AM and he's already nagging me…must be a new record._

"I shouldn't be surprised. Anyways, let's get going, we're not going to catch a murderer standing about."

"Alright…so were going to be going through his room?"

"Yes that's the plan. Look at it this way, if we find conclusive evidence you may not have to dress as a prostitute."

"That's fine by me!"

We made it half way to our destination when Abberline approached us from behind.

"Abberline, glad you could make it!"

"Morning Arthur, Alfred."

"Abberline? What are you doing here?" I questioned him.

"Arthur told me about his suspicions towards Francis Bonnefoy yesterday and asked me to tag along."

"You never said he was going to be here." I turned to Arthur.

"I barley asked him morning while you were still asleep, it's not that big of a deal. Let's get going, we're wasting time." Arthur tuned and led the way to the hotel with Abberline by his side and me lollygagging behind. It's a little irritating how Arthur leaves me out of the loop like that, but I'd never visibly show that irritation, otherwise he'd complain that I was acting like a child. Come to think of it, I pretty much am a child, but I don't want to give him that satisfaction.

The three of us continued on towards the hotel and waited outside, planning strategies on what to do when the Frenchmen came out. It was decided Abberline would trail Francis, while Arthur and I would be sneaking into his room. It wasn't long before Francis came out and set off to the world fair.

"Good luck Abberline." Arthur whispered; Abberline took off after Francis, cautious to remain anonymous.

With those two gone, Arthur and I proceeded with our side of the plan; we walked into the hotel lobby. A scruffy and dismal looking man sat behind the front desk, writing a couple of letters by the looks of it, which made it very easy to sneak past the man and up the stairs to Francis's room.

"So this is his room?" I asked Arthur who was fiddling with the locked door.

"Yes, now if I can ever manage to pick this lock we will start looking around for anything peculiar and out of sort." Arthur pulled out a small pick from his pocket and jammed it into the door, with a couple yanks and twists the door swung open. We stepped into the room, closing the door behind us, and took a moment to take in the lavishly decorated room. It was large and spacious, the furniture was formal looking, and the walls were painted a royal blue in contrast to the dark wooden floors. A large bed was placed in the center of the room and a side table with a couple of chairs was set off next to it in the right hand corner of the room. Across from that was a large wardrobe placed against the wall next to the door. In the left corner was a medium sized wooden trunk and next to that was a lounge chair underneath a window looking out to the busy city. _Personally I think it was a bit too formal. Something more western looking (like back home in the states) would've been more comfortable, but that's just me…_

I started off looking at the side table while Arthur rummaged through the chest at the opposite corner of the room. There was an empty glass set on the table (which more then likely held wine in it at one time) and a couple of French books lying next to it. The names were unreadable to me but they did look interesting.

"Hey Arthur," I turned to see him pulling out articles of clothing from the large chest, "did you see these?"

"Hm? Oh yes, those are the medical books I was talking about."

"Oh…" I skimmed through the two books, not that I expected to understand them or anything, but I did see some sketches of different medical procedures scattered throughout the pages. The first book didn't really have anything pertinent in it but once I flipped through the second book a boat ticket leaving for France on the first of October fell out and slowly fluttered to the floor.

"Hey Arthur, I found a ticket leaving for France here in four days…" Arthur stopped in the midst of yanking out more clothing from the chest and whipped around towards me, quickly snatching the ticket away from me and thoroughly examined it.

"He's leaving in four days Al and we don't have enough evidence to charge him," a mixture of anger and worry was etched onto his face.

"I think we're going to have to carry out our plan to get you and Francis alone immediately."

Click, click, click. Our heads whipped around to the door handle turning left and right. Arthur and I glanced at each other with the same shocked expression and scrambled to set everything we took out of place back to its original spot as quickly and as quietly as we could. I shoved the ticket back into the second book and franticly looked for a place to hide. _Behind the curtain? No…we'll be seen that way. The chest maybe? No, I'm too big to fit in that, Arthur might be able to though. Oh! The wardrobe! That might do!_ I latched onto Arthur's wrist and dragged him into the wardrobe with me. The wardrobe was surprisingly much smaller then I had anticipated it to be; Francis's flaunty clothes packed into it really didn't help the cause to much either. Miraculously we both were able to fit in the cramped space before the door opened. I tried to move as far back in the wardrobe as I could which also forced Arthur, who was behind me the whole time, back as well. Through the minute crack in the doors wardrobe, we both were able to catch a glimpse of Francis stepping into the room whistling Frere Jacques. I could feel Arthur's breath on the back of my neck grow more rapid and uneven as Francis paused to look at the room. He could tell someone has been in here. The Frenchman walked cautiously over to the trunk where Arthur was pulling clothing out from and tucked the remaining articles, that Arthur left hanging out of the trunk, back into the medium sized wooden box.

"Shit." Arthur muttered quietly, almost to the point of being inaudible, into my ear. Francis then slowly walked over to the side table with the books, and skimmed through each of the pages until he reached the boat ticket. He pulled the ticket out, shoved it into his pocket, and tucked the two books under his arm.

Suspicious and apprehensive, Francis approached the wardrobe. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest, along with Arthur's fiercely beating against my back, when Francis placed his hand on the doors of the wardrobe and began to open it. _We're done for!_

Knock, Knock, knock. _What was that? The door? Well what ever it was, that was incredibly good timing! _

"Good morning sir, I'm detective Fredrick Abberline with Scotland Yard, They're has been a disturbance within the building and I'm going to have to ask you to follow me outside, this could be dangerous!"

_Abberline! Thank God he's here!_

"Oh 'ow 'orrible! Lead ze vay Detective."

The door was slammed shut and the footsteps outside grew more and more faint until they completely faded away.

_Finally gone! If he hadn't come along with that excuse to get Francis out of the room we would've been in some big trouble! _Once the footsteps disappeared Arthur shoved me out of the wardrobe, which both of us ended up tumbling out of it and onto each other with a load thud.

"Remind me to thank Abberline later… Ugh, that was close, a little too close." Arthur said as he stood up, and then pulled me up to my feet.

"Let's get out of here. I don't wanna pull another stunt like that." I replied, as Arthur walked passed me and pulled the door open. We walked out into the hallway and observed the lobby down below. Abberline and Francis were no where in sight, which made me wonder where he took Francis too, but I wasn't going to stick around to find out. We descended down the stairs and out the front doors of the nearly vacant hotel. Once outside Arthur nabbed my wrist and, within a blink of an eye, sought a hiding place for the two of us on the side of the hotel.

"Look they're right there!" Arthur pointed two men, one blond and the other red, walking back to the hotel.

"Alright, I'm sorry for the mishap. That was entirely my fault; I must have had the wrong building."

"Oh no zat's quite alright. I 'ope you catch zee culprit you vere talking about Detective."

"Thank you sir. Well I must be off now. Good day sir."

"Good luck!"

Abberline stopped walking as Francis continued into the building. Once spotted, Abberline came to us with a worried look on his face.

"Glad you two made it out alright!"

"Yeah us too! Good distraction by the way!" I replied before Arthur chimed in.

"Thank you Abberline. I owe you. So we made a discovery that may prove to be a liability to our investigation."

"And that would be?"

"A ticket. Alfred found a boat ticket leaving to France on the first in the back of one of those medical books."

"Really? Hm that's interesting. He brought those books out with him when I asked him to follow me out of the building. He said he needed them for a medical exhibit at that world fair. While I was trailing him, I lost him amongst the crowd so I never managed to confirm whether or not there was such an exhibit. That is also why I was so late with that distraction, I'm sorry Arthur."

"No need to apologize. Abberline, we have to make a move soon. If we don't either two things can and will happen. One, he will get away with murder and we will have to pray the murders stop there or Two, these murders continue in Paris or maybe he'll come back to London in the future to carry out these deeds. I'm not about to let either way happen."

"Well do you have a plan Arthur?" Arthur's head turned and stared directly at me, smiling a toothy smile.

"Yes. Actually Abberline, I do."

_Awe shit…I knew this was coming..._

Sunday September 30, 1888, was 2 days after we invaded Francis's room, a day away from when the Frenchman was suppose to leave, and about 8 minutes away from putting Arthur's plan in play. It was 11:32 PM when Francis was heading back to his hotel, that was also the time Arthur had stuck me in that horrible blue dress in 30 degree weather! My job, to get Francis and myself alone. "It's plain and simple" as Arthur had said, but in my opinion it's easier said then done.

That Sunday wasn't a particularly busy day; most Sundays usually aren't, but it was especially vacant, much like a ghost town, during night. A few people passed by me here and there, but none were that familiar blond Frenchman. I stood there underneath a lamp post by the Grosvenor trying to keep a vigilant eye out for Francis upon his return to the hotel, which wasn't the easiest thing to do. Despite it being cold out, which served to be quite the distraction, Arthur had my glasses making it all the more difficult to watch for the Frenchman.

Eight minutes more pass buy before Frere Jacques echoed throughout the quiet inactive streets and Francis came to my sight walking in my direction. I started walking towards him and flash a forced smile at him and continued walking, which defiantly caught Francis's attention. He turned around, away from the hotel, to follow me. He caught up quickly to where I was and began walking with me.

"Madam Bonjour. Vat is a beautiful young lady like you doing on a night like zis?" He said teasingly as he reached for my hand and kissed it gently. _Gahhhh! This is so god damn creepy! Arthur, I swear, you WILL rue this day!_

"What ever you want me to do sir." I replied as I tried to imitate the British accent as properly and as girly sounding as I could. Still holding my hand and staring into my eyes, he smiled perversely at my response.

"Follow me." I said breaking the awkward moment, and flashed him another fake smile. I grimaced once my back was turned towards him and started leading him to the building Arthur had set aside specifically for this stupid plan.

We shuffled into the dark building, which did nothing to aid my horrific vision, when Francis grabbed me by my shoulders, pinning me against a wall, but instead of stabbing me with a scalpel or strangling me, Francis attempted to do what he does best…he leaned his face in closer to mine and would've caught my lips if I hadn't ducked down to avoid that collision. Puzzled and confused with my actions, the Frenchman took a step back away from me. _Maybe I shouldn't have done that…_

"Oh sorry sir, my apologies." I said as I faked yet again another sheepish smile. Francis then grabbed my waist pulling me up against his body and whispered into my ear

"No need to apologize. I find your shyness…attractive." Ack! Ok I really don't think he's the ripper anymore! Oh shit Arthur needs to stop this now before things get any worse! But I can't walk out on Francis without drawing severe suspicion. Arthur! Where are you?


	5. Chapter 5

Heya guys! First off I want to wish you all a happy Easter! And what better way to celebrate Easter than with good ol' Jack the Ripper! (wow that doesn't sound scary at all) So I finally got this one up! At long last! Sorry it took so long! School and all... enough said. Anyways I hope you all like it! Im kind of shaky about this chapter myself though, so let me know what you guys think!I always appreciate the comments you all leave me! It really does help when writing! So yeah, Hope you guys like it!

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

"Oh shit! I'm late! I hope Alfred is doing okay, hopefully he and Francis are not alone just yet!" I scurried along to the designated building in hopes Alfred and Francis were still outside. I told Alfred I would be there before he would be alone in the building with that French perv, but while Alfred was standing by the hotel waiting for Francis I had to go and inform Abberline about our whereabouts, just incase anything were to come up. Unfortunately Abberline had held me up longer than planed… so now, I'm late.

I hustled to the area I told Alfred to be at, realizing there was no one there I assumed Al's already managed to lure in Francis.

"Brilliant! Just bloody brilliant!" I said to myself, my agitated and sarcastic tone echoed through the streets, as I quickly scurried to the designated building. Once there I walked up to the small secluded house and peered through the window, careful as to not be seen by Francis.

"Oh poor Alfred…" I said under my breath as I watched Francis plant kisses across Alfred's face, who was pinned to the wall, soon to be underneath/on top of that French bastard. Judging from Alfred's grimace, I could tell not only was he absolutely loathing this but was trying to buy more time. This almost makes me want to go in there and stop this now, but we've come too far and I need the evidence against this sleazy pervert. I watched the scene play out further, trying to listen in on anything said between the two. Surprisingly, it was much harder to understand anything they said, however I did manage to distinguish some words, like attractive…touch…no…. which all must have been Francis's voice… poor Al. Moments pass by and more words are muttered as the scene progressed. Sir…wait…face…vitamins…. Francis stopped and looked suspicious and curious of Alfred. _Oh bollocks Al! How the hell did vitamins pop up in a situation like this? Him and his damned inability to properly mimic the British accent!_

All of a sudden a hand reached from behind me and nabbed my shoulder. I jumped from the scare, trying to fight back screaming, in hopes not to make any noise causing further suspicion from Francis.

"Arthur, it's just me. Listen I have something important to tell you." There the red haired, green eyed detective, I recognized as Abberline, stood with one hand on my shoulder. He looked as nervous and worried as ever, perhaps maybe even more so then usual.

"Abberline this better be bloody important." Abberline sighed and tilted his head towards the floor, staring at the pavement.

"Arthur, two women were just killed. They fit the Ripper criteria, their throats were slit the same way. Arthur these murders happened a little over an hour ago. How long has Francis been in there?"

"I'm not sure, longer then that I suppose.

Oh Shit! I just sent Alfred in a room with a creepy pervert not the Ripper! Which I suppose is better, but Alfred is alone in a dark room with Francis Bonnefoy and it's all for nothing!

"Abberline, listen, let me pull Alfred back out of there and we will meet you at the scenes. I'm sorry Abberline, I failed."

He looked intently at me, patted my shoulder and ran off to not just one murder scene but two.

I can't begin to explain the disappointment I feel towards myself, I let my emotions and my foolish curiosity get the best of me, and as result of that, not only is Alfred dressed as a harlot fighting to keep his virginity against Francis Bonnefoy, but two women have been slaughtered… and it's all my fault, all my fucking fault. If only I hadn't been so fixated on Francis maybe, just maybe, this could've been avoided. But I can't change it now…the damage has already been done.

Defeated, angry, and disappointed, I trudged back to the window. During our discussion over the plan Alfred and I conjured up, I would be the one going through the front door to arrest "Jack" and I suppose that's what Al's expecting, but never once did we go over what we would do if Francis wasn't Jack, I was so sure of myself, but now look where we are. I flailed my arms outside the window in order to catch Alfred's attention. His head cocked to the side of Francis, who was still all over him, his baby blue's franticly looked at me for help. I motioned to him, by waving both my hands across my neck in the opposite directions of each other, hoping that he understands that means the plan is off. His eyes widened as he backed off of Francis with relief. Francis looked suspicious and a little stunned as Al apologized, ripping himself away from the Frenchman and ran towards the door. He opened the door, ran out and left the Frenchman looking confused. Once in full view, I realized Alfred's appearance was completely askew, hair tossed about, and clothing out of kilter, poor Alfred has been through a lot tonight and here in just a moment he's going to have to go through more.

"Art, what the hell? Weren't you supposed to arr-"

"Alfred," I paused "Two women have just been killed with the same cause of death as the other Ripper victims… Francis isn't the Ripper."

"Vat ze 'ell? You zougt I vas Jack ze Ripper?"

Francis stood in the doorway staring at us both furiously.

"Zo let me get zis straight Arthur, you zougt I vas Jack zo you decided to investigate whether or not I vould slaughter your friend 'ere? Vait a second… Al? Alfred F. Jones is zat you? Je deteste tellement maintenant vous deux! Comment pouvait vous confondez moi avec Jack? J'ai meme sembler comme Ce genre personne?"(**I hate you two so much right now! How could you confuse me with Jack? Do I even seem like that kind of person?)**

"Listen Francis," I told the Frenchman in the midst of yelling at us both in French. "I understand you're mad but we didn't have any other suspects-"

"Zo you zought it vas me?"

"Well yes, but you had those medical books and you had no alibi, and let's not deny the fact that you love a pretty lady in a dress!" I retorted pointing to the very uncomfortable Alfred.

"Number one, I like a PRETTY LADY in a dress not Alfred! 'e fits neither of zose descriptions!"

"Your lips said different…" Alfred interjected, with Francis glaring at him.

"And two, zose books vere for a medical exhibit at ze vold fair led by a French doctor you imbecile!"

Guilt, guilt and stupidity were the only things I could feel at this point and Francis's words burned right through me. I hate to admit that I was wrong, no not hate, but abhor it, and the only thing I abhor more than that was Francis pointing it out.

"Ve'll I 'ope you catch ze Ripper. Le Slap!" Francis said resentfully as the back of his hand struck the side if my face as well as Alfred's. He walked away from us, back to the hotel, as I screamed various insults at him for the slap; he just kept on walking without turning around to glare or yell at us furthermore.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked me looking sympathetically.

"Come on Al. Lets get you out of those clothes. We have murders to investigate."

Dutfields off of Bener Street was out first destination, the destination of Elizabeth Stride, according to reports that were given to me at the scene of the crime, Stride was the first of the two victims, who were killed within 45 minutes away from each other, and within walking distance from one other as well. It was a quick and quiet walk over to the Stride scene once Alfred was cleaned up. Not a word was said on the way over, which I was thankful for, I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. I was too enraged to discuss matters with anyone. Once there, police and detectives had already arrived and were sweeping the crime scene for evidence and questioning witnesses_. Abberline didn't seem to be anywhere in sight, he must be at the next scene. _I then proceeded to the body with Alfred who was hesitant to come. He doesn't really handle these scenes well, and I can't really blame him, he is fairly young still, the sights even make me sick and I myself am a good couple of years older then him. Elizabeth Stride lay dead in a small pool of blood that had accumulated near her neck. From the distance it seemed to me that the cause of death another clean cut incision severing the main artery on the left side of the neck, but what was striking me odd was the body. It wasn't torn up like the others were, so how do we know that the murder was even the Ripper's doing? I suppose being a walking distance away from victim number two could classify this as a Ripper victim along with the throat being slit the same way as the other victims. Perhaps he didn't have time to butcher her…hmm perhaps…. Or maybe she was killed after victim number two. Maybe people were heading this way when Jack struck her down, this is a public place after all, but I can't imagine many people being out at 1 AM… what the hell happened then?

I proceeded to examine the body closer, carefully scrutinizing every detail. The body was lying on its side with the face turned towards the walls of the buildings surrounding the scene and the front teeth were missing completely from the swollen face. The left arm was extending awkwardly outwards and the right arm was over the poor woman's stomach. Both hands and wrists had clotted blood dried up upon them. The legs were pushed up against the wall as well; all parts of the body were still quite warm with the exception of the hands. The throat was deeply gashed, the abrasion, just by the looks of it was around one and one fourth inches in diameter. The blood from the wound stained the right side of her face up to the eyebrow. Though the throat was slit, the abdomen was left completely intact, which was so unlike Jack. Normally I would say this murder was unrelated, however there was a postcard that was dubbed a fake, which was sent into the police department.

Back on the 25th of September, still enthralled by my Francis theory, I was seated at a desk in Scotland Yard conjuring up a timeline, when Abberline burst through the doors showing me a postcard from Jack describing a double event, the murder of two women at the same time. Many hoax letters had appeared in the department ever since the Jack case had been made known to the public from the very beginning, so yet again the letter wasn't taken seriously, until now, which enraged me further more. More stupid mistakes….

After inspecting the corpse, I started to look over the scene with Alfred, who was ever so insistent on examining the scenes and never the body.

"Didn't really find anything Arthur, well except for another grape stem. I think he's leaving these things for us now."

"You're probably right." I replied morosely, still wallowing in anger. Alfred looked at me in concern, trying to read me. I turned away from him away from him to ask another detective about possible suspects and witnesses, leaving Alfred not too far behind. I know he has trouble reading the atmosphere, and well just people in general, but I don't want to give him the opportunity, though it seems highly unlikely, to figure out that my plan's failure is sidetracking me so much. It may be a pride thing I have that is making me think like this, but I intend not to let Alfred meddle with my head and emotions. I know he'd do it too if given the opportunity, after all he has already interfered with the investigation; I'm not going to let him work his way into anything else.

"Well there are a couple of witnesses to this scene, very little but witnesses all the same." Answered the middle-aged detective who looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion. Long nights at Scotland Yard will do that to you….

He started off by naming a list of witnesses who were last to see stride alive. Many said Stride had left the local lodging house around 7 PM, intoxicated. Others had reported seeing her around this area with a tall silhouetted bloke, middle-aged possibly, but being as dark as it was its impossible to say for sure. They all figured it was another client of Stride's, of course they would. Why wouldn't they? With over 67 brothels in London, any man with a harlot could just be a client, with that being said, it would be impossible to pin point the locating of Jack amongst the London harlots. It's not like we can track every single one of them.

"As far as persons of interest goes, Stride's husband may be one, I'll go and check up on him myself Detective Kirkland," concluded the grey droopy eyes detective "oh, there is one more thing I almost forgot to tell you. You best be heading to the next murder scene. It's … well… a little more …involved."

"Alright. I'll head there at once. Thank you." I turned away from the dreary detective to head off to the next scene, only to see Alfred standing behind me with that worried expression still sprawled across his face.

"Arth-"

"Come on Alfred. We are done here for now."

"Arthur? Are you alright?"

"Just fine you twit now lets get going." I started walking off when Alfred grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

"You sure? You don't seem fine."

"I AM fine! Can't you get that through your thick head?" I whipped around to face the American.

"Sorry for being concerned."

"I don't need you to be concerned about me; I need you to be concerned about the case. If you can't do that then just stay here and pester someone else!" I yelled back at him. That damned idiot just doesn't understand! He glared back at me and grew quiet as I continued on with walking to the scene. Alfred's footsteps were now muffled and almost silent as he walked behind me. I was hoping he wouldn't have followed me, I work better alone.

"Hero's don't abandon those in need ya know."

And that was the only thing said on the short walk over to the next scene at Miltre Square, in the center of London.

It was now 2 AM when I saw the body of a Mrs. Catherine Eddowes. A fellow detective told me that the body was found around 1:45 AM, only a 45 minute gap from Stride's murder. Now Eddowes was lying in the center of the square, throat severely sliced open, the Ripper's trademark, and the abdomen showed a long and obvious penetration wound cause by one long, deep, jagged, slash of a knife. Alfred turned a light shade of green as he backed off in discuss, while I proceeded to further to examine yet another mutilated corpse. Miraculously, I did not pass out or vomit from the sight, but that does not mean I wasn't horridly disgusted. This scene seemed far worse then Chapman or Nichol's.

Looking closer at the body the majority of the left kidney had been removed and the all of the uterus had been extracted. The face had been disfigured, parts of the noses, ears, and surface of the cheeks had been either nicked off or grazed, leaving the oily reddish-pink tissues exposed. The knife wounds appeared to be 6 to 8 inches like the others, I presume this was all done by the same knife or scalpel; how sickening.

After that a list of witnesses were given to Al and I both, not that it helped us much at all. Not really too much was said about Eddowes, just when she left, the silhouetted man, and when her body was discovered. Like Chapman and Stride, even Nichols, the witnesses stated the same thing, the same old damn thing! I feel like we're going in circles over and over and over again! And now we're back to square one.

As we turned away with the list of suspects a young man, I assume to be in his early to mid twenties approached us. He was tall and strong looking, almost like Alfred, and his shaggy dark brown hair jutted in front of his brown eyes; he looked nervous and confused.

"Sir I'm Sigmund Daunt, you're the head of the Scotland Yard right?" the boy addressed me.

"Not the head but I am with the Yard. Why?"

"Sir you and the other policemen may want to come with me."

"Why? What's going on?" Alfred chimed in.

"You'll see." Daunt turned to lead the way. We followed him to what I recognized to be Goulston Street. There on the street set on the stairway of a tenement was an apron, torn and tattered, speckled and stained with blood droplets. Above the dirty cloth was a sentence sprawled onto the brick wall in white chalk.

"The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing"

I was appalled by this! Racial Tension like this was already very high as it is and now this fool is bringing matters like this into play? At least I think it's that fool, Jack the Ripper, the handwriting on the wall wasn't similar to the handwriting on the postcard that the police received, but if this really was Jack, why would he write this? As far as I know none of the murdered women were Jewish, unless this is a clue on his identity, a clue meant to challenge the Yard's intelligence. Hmm… the apron is directly below the message and based off the message it could be referring to someone in specific. But who? Who are you?

"Oh god." Alfred stammered. More detectives started to pour into the scene and amongst some of those detectives and other officials were Constable Alfred Long of the Metropolitan Police Service, Detective Constable Daniel Halse of the city of London Police and Police Superintendent Thomas Arnold, all high up and well respected. We compared notes and thoughts on the matter at hand which were all very similar.

"Arthur," Thomas Arnold begun, for as long as I've known him, he was always a very stoic and serious man, a man of respect, and a proper gentleman, much like myself. Anything he had to say should always taken seriously and will evidently help in the meaning behind this message of Goulston Street.

"I know very well you think this is a clue, an indicator or message left behind by the killer…I am inclined to agree."

"Really sir? I'm glad we share the same opinion, but I'm baffled as to what this message could be indicating."

"Well there is a man around these parts, a Jewish man known as the leather apron; he is a boot maker who goes by the name John Pizer. The only reason I know this is because Pizer gave quite a bit of trouble no longer than a month ago. Assault on a prostitute Arthur."

"Sounds like a good place to start. Thank you Constable. I will check on this leather apron post haste!"

"Good luck." The Constable said to me as Alfred and I rushed away from the Goulston scene on search for the boot maker.

"Now can someone clean this graffiti up? We don't need a riot caused from this!" Arnold yelled directly towards a group of officers on the scene. Now for Mr. Pizer, maybe I can redeem my failure with the Francis theory through him.

After some time searching in the dark Alfred and I came across Pizer's home, resting at 22 Mulberry Street, not to far from either murder or the Goulston Street fracas. Alfred knocked on the door, we both waited for it to open and question the leather apron. 3:37…3:38… 3:39… no answer.

"Mr. Pizer? Open up, Scotland Yard!" I yelled banging on the door myself.

…. no response….

I tested the door knob, twisting it back and forth. Locked. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my lock pick I always carry with me and jammed it into the door. In no time the door clicked and swung wide open. Alfred and I cautiously stepped inside the small quaint home. Alfred was to scope out the bottom floor while I descended up the stairs to search the top floor. Nothing was out of place or unusual except for Pizer's absence. At 3 in the morning one would expect to be in bed asleep.

Thud, thud, thud, Alfred's heavy foot fall alerted me he was coming up the stairs.

"Hey Arthur, no one's down stairs."

"No one is up here either, I wonder where he is. This most certainly makes him more suspicious of a character. Lets talk to the neighbors; maybe they have heard or have seen Pizer recently."

We moved out of the house and went to knock on the door of Pizer's neighbor. There was a long pause before footfall was heard from inside the house.

"Bloody hell! Do you have any clue what time it is?" a small framed woman stepped out of the house in her nightwear. Though she was small her powerful voice would say different. Her face was lined in exhaustion and stress, much like an elder person.

"Madam," I begun, still a little startled by the short feisty woman. "We're with the police; we need to ask you a couple of questions about your neighbor John Pizer."

"Pizer? Oh great, make it quick."

"Do you know where he is? Its 3 AM and he's not home. I find this quite odd."

"Not home? He must be out with relatives then; he's always with those relatives of his out in Liverpool. John's been gone for about two days now."

"Do you know when he will be back?"

"Tomorrow Afternoon I believe. Are we done here?"

"Yes. We are. Thank you madam. Sorry for waking you, good night." The petite woman, muttering under her breath, slammed the door behind her as she retreated back into the house.

"Shit," Alfred said disappointingly, "well there goes him as a suspect. Now what do we do?"

"Back to square one Al."

October 16, 1888. Sixteen days after the double event, Pizer was completely cleared as a suspect; his alibi had checked out and there was no evidence against him.

It was late that day, the 16th; both Alfred and I were at the police station in an office reviewing police reports, possible evidence and what ever else came across our way. Disappointed with our failed attempts to discover and apprehend the true Jack, the Head of the Yard assigned Abberline, Alfred, and I with desk work, so there I sat looking over files stacked as high as my head, while other officers were out investigating. How loathsome.

My eyes burned and stung, much like if one were to stare at the sun, my head throbbed and pounded against my skull, and my body ached from the sleepless nights I stayed up reading all of these damn files! I'm not sure how much more I can bear.

"Hey Arthur?" Alfred asked while walking up to the side of my desk. He placed his arm on the side of the desk, leaning all of his weight against it, staring directly at me.

"What do you want?" I replied, hoping he'd get the hint of agitation in my voice, and would go away.

"Why don't you take a break? You've been at this for hours now. Aren't you tired?"

"I am, but I have to keep going. I don't have a choice."

"Well then I'll take over! You don't have to do it all by yourself you know!"

"You doing files and reports? Don't make me laugh."

"I can do it! I'm not useless."

"I'd beg to differ." I muttered under my breath, Alfred frowned and ignored the insult.

"C'mon Arthur, I can help! Its what a hero is suppose to do!" His frown turned into a smile as he extended his hand out towards me.

I was hesitant whether or not to take it. I could use the break, however that means this American would be taking over my duties. With my head pounding even more and my eyes continuously stinging I gripped Alfred's warm hand. The American grasped my hand tightly, pulled me up from my chair and led me to the couch in the corner of the small office.

"Here get some rest k? You look like you need it." He said as I lay down on the soft cushions of the couch. I watched him turn away and take my place at the desk perusing through the mountainous heap of papers and notes until I finally shut my eyes and fell fast asleep.

"Arthur! Arthur! God Arthur wake up please!" a voice echoed, gradually waking me up with every word that was spoke.

"C'mon Arthur wake up!" I opened my eyes to that blue eyed American jostling me awake.

"What's going on?"

"It's about Jack! Come on!" Alfred grabbed my wrist, and pulled me off the couch and out of the tiny office.

"Alfred what the hell is going on?"

"George Lusk. A detective came in while you were asleep and told me Lusk received a package from the Ripper!"

"A package? What kind of package?" I asked him as he dragged me through the building.

"We'll see."

George Lusk, Head of Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, was elected the head of the committee after the Whitechapel murders had begun, his duty was to patrol the streets and keep an eye out for any suspicious blokes. My question is why would Lusk be receiving packages from the Ripper? He hadn't any luck finding much of anything about the Ripper's identity, so why send Lusk something and not someone like Abberline or myself?

Alfred led us into the office belonging to Lusk; the room was filled with detectives and officials alike, including Abberline, Thomas Arnold and various others.

"Abberline, what's going on?"

"Perhaps you should take a look for yourself Arthur." he replied. Sitting on Lusk's desk was a letter titled _From Hell_ set upon a wooden box

_From Hell_

_Mr. Lusk_

_Sor_

_I send you half the kidne I took from one woman prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer_

_Signed_

_Catch Me If You Can Mishter Lusk _

Fuck! You can't be serious! I dropped the letter and opened the wooden box, there inside the container lie a severed piece of a fleshy kidney perfectly preserved and reeked of ethanol. My stomach turned over and nausea overtook me. It was a battle to keep myself from vomiting. Did he really devour Catherine Eddowes' missing kidney? Is the kidney before us all even really from a human being? This is making me sick!

The fellow detectives in the room all turned green and were appalled by the contents of the box. Alfred was leaning over a trashcan doing what my body so longed to do; vomiting from this disgusting package.

"Arthur," Abberline started, looking green and as disgusted as everyone else, "Catherine Eddowes was missing a kidney, and I think it very well could be a match."

My god, so this is what Jack does with the organs he extracts. Words cannot even begin to describe how truly revolting this is, enough to make me sick and Alfred to blow chunks. It was silent in the room before anyone spoke.

During the silence I picked up the letter that had fluttered to the floor and made note of everything inside the letter, grammatical wise especially. I. Y. E. E. S. C. I. E. H. was the letters I pulled from the spelling mistakes. Sor is suppose to be sir, kidney has a y at the end of it, preserved is spelt with two E's not A's and so on and so on. Rearranging the words do not spell out anything of the sort, and if you count punctuation in between letters it makes even less sense. Maybe that's what Jack wanted… to pass off as unintelligent, so he sent in a letter like this? It's possible…. Maybe so, but maybe so is not good enough! I'm getting fed up with playing the guessing game on this case!

"I think the letter is real, that is if the kidney really did come from Eddowes. As for the grammar mistakes, I think it's quite possible that jack purposefully made these mistakes to either seem like the errors pointed out something, which they don't, or it's possible he wants us to think of him as illiterate. Either way we have to do something about this!"

"Is it possible that the letter is a hoax?" Lusk asked, "I mean isn't it a possibility that some med student at a hospital sent it in just for the laughs?"

"Well anything is possible." Another detective chimed in.

"Then how do we even know this is the Ripper? The handwriting doesn't even look the same." retorted another.

"Maybe Jack has an accomplice!"

"Maybe it really is just a hoax

"Couldn't he just disguise his writing?"

The meeting over the package then turned into a full fledged argument; with resolve? I don't see one coming anytime soon.

Ten minutes later, amongst the bickering and arguing of police officials, yet another officer came in, bearing a letter addressed to me. What now?

"Uh… here you go Arthur… is everything…ok in here?" the young officer asked.

"Yes perfectly fine, just a debate..." I grabbed the ornate letter and begun opening it when I realized the envelope's seal looked rather familiar; it was the royal seal, the same seal the Queen of England uses.

"Hey Arthur? You alright?" Alfred asked me after noticing I have become strangely quiet in the argument that was still taking place.

"Alfred, this letter that I just now received is from the Queen. She is requesting to see both of us." Alfred's eyes widened as I told him.

"So that means we're off to see her majesty?" he replied.

"Yes. That's precisely what it means."

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><p>There you have it! Chapter five is over and done with! What do you guys think? I really hope you all liked it because chapter six is on its way! Anyways, so this is some dark stuff yeah? it really is very sickening! When I was researching everything Jack the Ripper I came across the From Hell letters and the Goulston Street Graffito and all that jazz. It kind of shocked me the first time i read about it! All of the miss-spells in the letters have me curious as to why Jack would do something like that! If you guys have any other theories about that feel free to let me know! I'd love to hear you all's opinions! So yeah let me know what you guys think of this chapter and your theories if you want! Thanks so much for reading! Hope you liked it! =)<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Buckingham palace... Whoa! I've never been here before!"I said to Arthur saws approached the queens palace. It's been quite some time since I was last in England. Even then I've never really been to Buckingham before. I guess I was never here long enough to go sight seeing.

Arthur took a deep sigh as he walked towards the gates of the enormous palace adorn in flowers and guarded by high walls and guards. He pulled out the Queen's letter from his waistcoat pocket and showed it to the guards, gaining us access into the palace.

The gate opened and a guard lead us into the foyer of Buckingham. My jaw dropped at the regal foyer, polished to perfection and decorated extravagantly. While it was easy to tell I was impressed, Arthur on the other hand not so much. I assume he has been here several times then.

The guard in red took us up the shiny foyer staircase and into the hallway, that was equally as beautiful as the foyer, outside the Queen's throne room.

The stern guard announced our presence to her majesty while we stood outside the door. The doors soon opened and we proceeded into the room where Queen Victoria resides.

"Detective Kirkland, Detective Jones." Victoria acknowledged us in a superior and sophisticated tone.

"Your majesty." Arthur answered her with pride and respect as he bowed down to his monarch.

Perhaps I should do the same...

"Um, howdy your majesty." I said as I mimicked Arthur's movements. The room drew as silent as a graveyard in the middle of the night. The Queen,herself, looked unamused with my answer. Arthur stood up from his previous position and glared at me with pure fury. Maybe howdy was the wrong choice in words...

"DID YOU JUST ADDRESS MY QUEEN WITH A HOWDY? YOU DAMNED AMERICAN WANKER!"

...Defiantly the wrong choice in words! Arthur took a step towards me with his hands extended outwards, looking like he was about to strangle the living daylights out if me.

"YOU WOULDN'T ADDRESS YOUR PRESIDENT LIKE THAT YOU DAFT TEXAN HICK! SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN ADDRESS HER MAJESTY WITH SUCH SLANG?"

"Arthur," the Queen interjected (just in time too. A little longer and I'm sure Arthur's hands would have been clamped around my throat.) "no need to quite all right. I'm sure he knows not how to address one such as myself." Great, now the queen thinks I'm an idiot. Add her to the list. Arthur slowly backed off as the queen spoke.

"Detective Jones, I think it is best if I speak to Arthur alone for now. Do you mind..."

"Oh, no of course not! I will do just that! I'll just wait outside then."

I know I sounded awkward talking to her, but so would anyone in my position. I pulled the doors open and walked out with Arthur still staring me down. Once shut, I pressed my ear to true door hoping to hear a little of the conversation taking place without me.

"I'm sorry about him your majesty," Arthur's muffled voice began "he can be an idiot. I shall take full responsibility for..."

"Enough Arthur. Do you know why you're here?"

Silence...

"You're here because two women are dead. And where we're you during this?"

More silence...

"You were after Bonnefoy. for the love of God Arthur, what made you think France of all people would be the ripper? He's a country just like you! Could it be because of you animosity for the Frenchman?"

Silence once more engulfed the room on Arthur's part.

And the conversation continued on just like this, questions coming from the queens end and silence on Arthur's. She continued to ask him about leads and present thoughts on the case. More silence. Never once did I hear Arthur defend himself in the midst of the Queen's questions. And it wasn't until the Queen pressed him on evidence when Arthur finally spoke up. He told her about the From Hell letter and the kidney in the box. The room drew silent once more. I really wish I could have seen what was going on. Moments later the Queen spoke up again, vexed at the present state of the investigation.

To be honest, I think I had enough of this. It's not like it was Arthur's fault this stuff happened, yet she treats him like it is.

I lifted my ear from the door, muting the queen, and slowly stepped away from the door. I decided to take leave of the scene for just a little while, I'm sure Arthur will find me once he's done being yelled at.

The throne room hallway had 2 extra hallways branching off of it before you enter back into the foyer. I started off by goings own the hallway to the left, careful to avoid any guards. I figured even though we had permission to see the queen, we didn't have permission to wander about her palace aimlessly.

This new hallway was just as extravagant as the rest of the palace. Ornate moldings and paintings of kings and queens adorn the walls. Sunlight streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows and shone brightly onto the rugs and paintings, giving it all a crisp golden glow.

As the hallway progressed doors started to appear, and one in specific attracted my attention. In dark letters etched across the door was Dr. William Gull. Generally speaking, I'm a curious person. Arthur goes as far to say that I'm nosy, but I much prefer the phrase 'wanting to learn as much as one can about everything'. So naturally I can't resist "learning" whats behind closed doors, especially this one. (considering doctors and medically learned people are under suspicion these days)

I fiddled with the door a d found it unlocked. Just my luck! There would've been no way that I'd be able to pick the lock like Arthur. I stepped into Dr. Gull's office eagerly. It was quite spacious and decorated as lavished as the rest of the palace. There was a small bookshelf, crammed with books and other various objects, along the side of the wall. Paintings of places in London and its people complemented the walls. A window looked out to London and in front of that was a wooden desk with letter and papers scattered across its surface, with a letter opener and a couple of fountain pens rested upon the stacks of letters. I walked toward the bookshelf first, intrigued by the books on the shelves. I pulled a book from the shelf to see that the book was actually a journal filled with medical procedures and detailed sketches of the human body. I set the book back and trailed my fingers gently against each book as I moved along the shelf, taking the time to look at the strange knick knacks , from small statues, to pottery,all scattered throughout the bookshelf.

A mini version of David by Michelangelo was one of the statues on the shelf, along with a couple of small Japanese style pots to accompany it. A little crystal clock with golden colored hands was stopped at 3:39:5. I checked my own pocket watch from my vest pocket; It was only 10:27, what a shame that pretty little clock didn't work. All of these little decorations sure didn't match the rest of the room, this guy has some strange taste in room decor. I took a couple of steps away from the shelf towards the cluttered desk and glance through some of the papers placed upon the surface at random. Maybe it was a little more nosy and less curiosity to look through a man's papers, but I pushed the thought back and just took a glance. I figured if it's just a glance not much damage could be done by that. Right? The papers and letter were really nothing of interest, much like the journals on the shelf, they contained much of the same procedures. I walked towards the opposite side of the desk hoping there'd be something more interesting I might have missed from the front view of the desk.

"Ow! What the hell?" I looked down below me to see an opened drawer, that I walked into, against my shin. I knelt down to them lightly opened drawer and pulled it open a little more, revealing more papers, a small diary, and a long and slender wooden box with a lock that required some sort of number lock.

I slid the numbers at random, 4967, 2797, 2374. None of which worked, not that I'm surprised. I knew those wouldn't be the code. Maybe if I actually want to get this opened I should choose digits with meaning behind it. Hmm... Maybe 7476? I slid the lock once again, and once again without any luck. Maybe it's 2348? I know the 23 of April is England's national day and considering its 1888 maybe that could be the password.

"Nope! No surprise there I guess," I said to myself "maybe this guy wrote it down and put it in another drawer." I trifled through the drawers and mess of papers. Medical reports, patients in Buckingham, but any numbers? No! This is getting frustrating! If there is no coded in the desk maybe there is one in the shelf. I stood from my spot, with the box in my hand, and ventured towards the shelf.

"Ha ha ok I'm not going to look through all of these books!" I stated as I stared at the shelf again. I went over in my head all that I saw in the few books I skimmed through. I didn't recall any numbers grouped in fours. I really don't want to look through each book, so maybe I'll just peak into just a couple of them. One thing is for sure however, if I take all this time and trouble to find the code, the content of this box better be good! I'm going to be as crossed as a bull in a rodeo if it turns out to be empty. I reached for and pulled out a book at random and accidentally knocked on of the various little knick knacks off the shelf!

"Whoa!" I yelled. I extended my hand out and caught the little crystal clock before it had the chance to shatter and break on the floor.

"Ha! That was a close one! That could've been bad!" I sighed in relief and set the little clock back in its spot on the shelf. I'm just glad it's not in pieces. Even if it didn't work it still must have costed a fortune. What a shame it didn't work, always stuck on 3:39... Wait a second! 3:39? Could that be the code if I were to count the second hand? My fingers danced across the panel of the lock, entering in the code as quickly as I could. 3...3...9...5. Click! The edges of my mouth pulled into a smile because of my discovery. Arthur's not the only lock breaker in town now! Once opened my jaw dropped pupils dilated and eyes widened. I found myself staring at an 8 inch scalpel, dulling at the tip and speckled in iddy-bitty red dots. It could be rust, or perhaps blood!

"What do you think you're doing?" a hand from behind me wrapped itself around in my hair tightly and yanked me to the tip of my toes. I dropped the box as I yelped from the pain in my head. My hands reacted by scratching and at the hand tangled in my hair as I was almost lifted off my feet by my hair. I stared into the face I presumed to be Dr. Gull. He was tall, obviously, and looked to be around his early 40s. His cheeks were sunken and gaunt, eyes were a morose shade of grey from being the square framed glasses resting at the ridge of his nose. His clothing looked expensive as well; complete with long slacks, leather shoes, a pocket watch chain protruding out os his vest, and a long tailcoat to match the rest of his attire.

"What are you doing in my office?" He scowled.

"I...um...I was just ACK!" he gripped my hair even tighter as he dragged me towards the door of the office and ,by the hair, threw me out into the hallway.

"Get out of here before I order the Queen's guards to shoot you dead! Do you hear me?"

I landed on my wrist, as the doctor threw me out of the office. I scrambled to my feet, clutching my injured wrist, and made a mad dash away from the infuriated British doctor. I took a right, a left and them another right when I ran head on into Arthur coming down the hall, which sent us both flying backwards onto the floor.

"Bloody hell Alfred! Where have you been? You daft git! Not only do you greet my Queen in that slang but you have the nerve to take a stroll in her palace? Damn you Alfred!"

"Arthur listen I need to tell your something!"

"What in God's name could it be?"

"That doctor! Arthur he had a scalpel!"

"Well, no shit Sherlock. Most doctors have scalpels."

"No, I mean a bloody scalpel locked in a box! I think he is the ripper!" Arthur only stared at me and laughed.

"ha ha that's absolutely absurd! He's the Queens physician, why would he be the ripper? Do you have any proof?"

"Yes, The scalpel!"

"Alfred not all doctors clean their instruments after a procedure."

"So you keep it in a box? C'mon Arthur I'll show you!" I gripped his sleeve with my good hand (the left hand) and tugged at him to go, but found him to be much like a goat, unmovable.

"Alfred I'm not going."

"Why not? Im not kidding Arthur, I swear he's Jack!"

"Because, Alfred, the Queen removed me from the case." It was dead silent for the longest time. I went over What he just said but it seemed like I couldn't wrap my head around it.

"Why? Why did she do that?"

"Because I failed. I failed and she wasn't pleased with our fruitless efforts to find the ripper."

"So your just going to give up?"

"I'm not going against my queen. If she wants me to back down then I will do so."

"Well, just because she asked you to step down doesn't mean I'm going to! I'm not British therefore I don't have to abide by her rules!"

"Exactly Al you twit! You're not British! And this is a British case, meaning you should have never even helped to begin with."

"I was helping you Arthur! Don't you even want to catch this guy? Your sure acting like you don't."

"Of course I do but I'm not going to disobey my queen!"

"Well, then I'll do it by myself if your going to give up!"

"Oh no you're not! You're not even affiliated with the police. Alfred get back here!" I can't believe this! How easy Arthur is giving up! Well, I do know one thing, a hero doesn't give up. I walked away from Arthur who was still calling out to me as I left the spot and towards the foyer. I had to get away from him, otherwise I might be the one tempted to strangle the daylights out of him.

"Alfred! Get back here! Do you hear me? You can't do this! Do you have any idea what could happen?"

"You know what? Fuck you Arthur."

" Don't you talk to me like that Alfred F. Jones! Get your arse back over here!" I continued to ignore him as i got to the foyer. The guards opened the door once I approached and I walked out of the palace back into London. I didn't know where to go exactly but I had to go somewhere, anywhere. As long as I could get away from here.


	7. Chapter 7

Ha ha! Finally got this up! Sorry for the dilemma! So we're finally coming to an end of the story. I have a couple more chapters to write before its over with, but I'd say they're coming along rather nicely. To be quite honest, I'm a little self conscious about this chapter. I dunno i just don't like it that much, so feel free to tell me what you think about it! Well i think that's just about it for now, so I hope you guys like it! Thanks for all the support! :)

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

"Alfred! Alfred! Get back here you damned git!" I yelled as I sprinted out of the palace's doors in search for the blonde American amongst the ocean of people and buildings. I did, however, spot his long cowlick peek up from the tops of the heads of passerby's. I attempted to track down the swaying piece of hair before it disappeared into the crowds again. It was almost like an eye spy, trying to catch glimpses of that American. Damnit! Why did he have to run off like this?

The cowlick, I noticed, moved faster and faster along the long stretch of road. I called his name out again and again, but he seemed to drown me out. Alfred took a swift left turn down an alley way, a failed attempt to throw me off his trail. I sped up and maneuvered my way around the busy hustle and bustle of the Londoners to find Alfred leaning against the brick wall enclosing the dead end alley. He looked infuriated and took deep long breaths as his eyes were fixated on the dirty brick wall across from him.

"Alfred you damned wanker!"

"What do you want?" he retorted scolding.

"Don't use that voice with me Alfred, please."

"Don't tell me what to do. You're not in charge of me!"

"Alfred, listen, I know you're upset but,"

"Damn right I'm upset! We've spent all that time, all those hours searching for answers, and for what? Nothing!" He took a step away from the wall and now turned to me, face to face. With great acrimony in his disposition and speech, he continued.

"All of those women died and it means nothing to you! You're just giving up!"

"You don't think I want to catch the Ripper?" I yelled back. It hurt to hear that he thinks it means nothing, because of course it does, for the past months it has been my everything.

"Well, you're sure not acting like it!" He turned his back towards me and leaned against the wall once more. I don't ever recall seeing him this angry before. Usually he has that goofy grin plastered on his face regardless the severity of the matters at hand and always manage to maintain his plucky optimism.

"Maybe that's because I refuse to act like a child when things don't go my way." Silence. I think that was a wee bit to far.

"Listen, I want to solve this as much as you, but I won't go against my monarch. Alfred, that's treason."

"Well, then let's hope Gull is the actual Jack the Ripper, which I'm sure he is. If we catch him then her highness will be so happy she won't send punishment down our way."

"But,"

"But what?" He whipped around to face me once more. "You had your chance with Francis; yes I know it failed, but now its time to move on! Let me have my chance. If I'm wrong then I'll take the blame and say you had no part in this, just let me take the chance I'm willing to bet my life on. You may think I'm an idiot, just as you always do, for saying this all, but I'm a lot smarter than what you give me credit for. When I say Gull is suspicious, I mean he really is a shady character, so don't discredit my theory just because I said it! I'm willing to investigate further, queen's permission or not! I'm willing to take a stand for what I believe in, to be a hero. Are you?"

I paused. He made decent points, yet it is all so very unsettling. This is direct disobedience, but if he's right what could possibly happen for locking up a notorious knife wielding lunatic? However, we risk everything if we are found out and have nothing to show for our efforts. Possibilities of this happening seem high, in addition it is Alfred taking charge here, and I don't know how successful this is going to be. Now this is all going down to trust. I want to trust him with this. My head says no, but my heart is saying yes or perhaps it wants to say yes. After consideration, I slowly nodded my head, much to Alfred's surprise.

"Wow, to be honest I didn't expect you to say yes."

"Yeah, well I wasn't entirely expecting to say yes either. Now just shut up and tell me what you want to do." It's weird to say that and not be the one leading the way. I've always been the leader for every situation, but know this lad will be calling the shots.

"Well for one, I want to press into this guy. I want to know all the secrets he has to hide. I know that scalpel is not just for decoration. By the looks of it, the Queen hasn't had any operations, so why would anyone keep a bloody scalpel in a locked box?"

"Well now that he has seen you prowling about in his office, I highly doubt he is going to let you take a peek. In addition to that, there's no bloody way we're going to sneak into the palace. Not with the guards lurking about, they'll shoot us dead."

"Doesn't he have a house or something?"

"I would think so."

"Then we'll start there! We should go to the police station or Scotland yard to get the address."

It seems like a decent plan, however I'm positive that the police and the yard were already informed about us being disbanded from the case, so there's no way we would be able to access police records. I explained this to Alfred to which he proposed we talk with Abberline about it.

"Abberline likes you Arthur, and I'm sure he'd help us out. You should write a letter or something explaining everything goin' on."

"Alright, I will do so."

Knock knock. The fidgety Abberline, whom I had informed about our present state via letter, stood at my doorstep the next day with a slip of parchment with the address of Dr. Gull inscribed onto the sheet.

"Abberline, thank you so much for aiding me, I know this must have been risky. I'm forever grateful to you my friend."

"Yes, anytime." He replied in a softer tone then usual.

"Is something troubling you Fredrick? You seem a wee bit off."

"No, I'm fine, just nervous I suppose. The Yard and the police are just at odds, that's all. We're not coming any closer to identifying this fiend and you two seem to be making far more progress then the Yard and the Police combined. Arthur, if it's not too much of a burden, would you mind if I helped you and Alfred further?" Poor chap; there must be plenty of friction between the Yard and the Police for Abberline to want to stick with us.

"No, not at all. Your help is very much welcomed and appreciated. I just hope we're right with this accusation and this doesn't turn into another Bonnefoy." I told him as I ushered him into the house.

"I'm inclined to agree. You seem far more confident about this accusation then your last one though."

"It's not actually my accusation, its Alfred's."

"Alfred's?" Abberline questioned in surprise. "He formed this?"

"Yes, believe it or not, he did."

"He is the last person I thought you would have sought accusations from. Speaking of which, where is the lad?"

"I'm right here." Alfred chimed in as he strolled into the room with one of my crumpets in hand.

"Is that my crumpet?" I questioned agitatedly.

"Hm? Oh yeah it is. Here you can have it back, it kinda tastes like a petrified couch cushion." He said blatantly as he pushed the crumpet into my hands.

"TAKE THAT BACK YOU BLEEDING PRAT! My crumpets are delectable, unlike that rubbish you're use to eating."

"Is that Dr. Gull's address?" He continued, ignoring my insults.

"Yes it is," I grumbled, "Abberline is coming with us by the way."

"Alright, that's fine by me." He said as he grasped the paper out of Abberline's hand and examined it closely before he continued.

"So I think we should head out for the doc's house at 9 AM tomorrow. It is a Friday, so he'll defiantly be working at the time." Alfred seems to have actually thought this through.

The next, day at precisely 9 AM, we made our way to the doctor's abode, which was not too far from Buckingham Palace. Anyone under the Queen stayed close to her, either in the palace, itself, or in a close proximity in case of emergency. William Gull would spend his days there at the palace aiding Her Majesty and servants in their health, while his nights would be spent here at his home only to repeat the process again the next day. Once we reached the door of one of the more lavished looking houses of London, the good Doc's house, I twisted the knob of the door and with no surprise, it was locked. I reached down into my pocket to retrieve my lock pick that never left my person.

When I was a young boy my fixation for locked doors, chests, drawers, and anything else with a lock on it left me thirsty to learn what was inside of the sealed off item. Thus my skill for lock picking was born. I first learned the trade from one of my older brothers, Alistair. (Presently we are not on good terms, like the rest of my brothers) I would watch him pry open any lock he came across. I soon picked up the art myself and became exceptional at the trade.

I stuck the lock pick inside of the key hole and began to twist it, listening ardently for the clicking noise, amazingly without results. This must be a more complex lock than I originally presumed. I maneuvered the pick every which without any luck and eventually exerted enough force on the pick that it snapped in the key hole!

"BOLLOCKS! What the hell happened? I'm an expert, that's not suppose to,"

"Hey Arthur!" The door swung open and standing on the other side was that damned American, smiling and staring at me through those square framed glasses. My features pulled into an exasperated expression of "how the hell did you get in there" and "there's times I'd love to strangle you, this being one of them".

"What in the world Alfred? How did you get in there?"

"The window on the side of the house wasn't locked properly." He laughed and turned into the building. Abberline, grinning and attempting to holding back giggles, following closely behind. Grudgingly, I dawdled into the affluently decorated house. Abberline and Alfred waited for me in the hallway of the house where the three of us agreed to split up and search the house for anything suspicious. Abberline took the upstairs, I had the study and the rest of the rooms towards the front of the house, and Alfred had the sitting room and the kitchen. (Not that I'm to surprise about his choice in rooms. Ever since that gluttonous American arrived here, my food bill has increased ten fold!)

I decided to first check the study, perhaps something of interest will pop up. The study, a light blue room with polished wooden floors, was organized and neatly set up. A large floor to ceiling window looked out to a proper English garden and a red wood desk was set just so to look out to the greenery. (Not a bad place to work if I do say so myself.)

Journals and neatly stacked papers on new medical procedures were set on the surface of the red wood and the same went for the drawers, all very organized. I slid the chair out from underneath the desk when something rather curious caught my eye. A bit of dried mud in the shape of a shoe was smudged onto the floor. Now if Dr. Gull were a messy and disorganized man then I would not pay heed to such an insignificant blemish, but he's not. I glanced out of the window out towards the garden to make the comparison between the dried mud stain and the garden dirt. The garden dirt appeared to be darker when wet, I would know too. After all I do a bit of gardening myself and that is the same type I use for my roses and such. So where is this dirt on the floor from? Gull had to have stepped in it somewhere along the lines and tracked it into the study. It most certainly isn't from around these parts. I wonder if the others would care to hear about this….

I stepped put of the room and into the hallway when a scream echoed throughout the house.

"ARTHUR! ABBERLINE!"

"Shite Alfred! Hold on!" I yelled back franticly as I dashed towards the origin of Alfred's voice. I ran into the hall when Abberline staggered down the stairs; we both darted to timorous voice from there.

Alfred stood next to the marble fireplace in the sitting room, staring profoundly at a piece of parchment. Never taking his eyes off the parchment, he motioned Abberline and I to view the page with a small list of names and dates inscribed onto the page.

Mary Ann Nichols….August 21, 1888

Annie Chapman….September 8, 1888

Catherine Eddowes….September 30, 1888

Elizabeth Stride…...September 30, 1888

Mary Jane Kelly…...November 9, 1888

"My word!" I interjected as I grasped the parchment and stared at the names.

"Proof enough for you?" Alfred stammered

"Where did you find this lad?" questioned Abberline

"A brick in the fireplace was loose. If I hadn't tripped on that side table over yonder I wouldn't have noticed it."

"Mary Jane Kelly? Another harlot I presume…" I whispered, handing the list of the names written in black to Abberline.

"Yes, I would like to think so." He added.

"Never mind who she is!" the American yelled boisterously, "let's go and arrest this bastard!"

"We can't do that you twat! If you don't remember let me be first to point out we were expelled form the case, ergo we cannot burst through Buckingham's doors screaming bloody murder! And in addition to that, next to Kelly's name is today's date meaning she could be in great danger."

"Oi, why don't we split up?" proposed Abberline. "I'll go to the police, state the situation, and show them this list. That should be enough proof in itself for them to start looking into Gull. Arthur you should go to this Kelly woman and make sure she is alright, and Alfred, stay here and keep an eye out for Gull. Do try and stall him here in the house's premise until Arthur or I arrive on scene."

"Brilliant Abberline! Let us get going then. Time is of the essence."

Time flew by as I scampered to Whitechapel again. The familiarity of the poverty and grottieness of the sector hit me like a cold bucket of water. Now being in Whitechapel knowing who I'm after versus taking stabs in the dark was relief and confidence in itself, yet all very hectic. Why? Well for one, I don't know where Kelly lives. Normally it is below me to ask for help, but desperate times call for desperate measures; I asked for directions. After wandering about I stopped those traversing the streets to ask them the address of Ms. Kelly, to whom most of which stared at me awkwardly and left. That is until I asked one woman glancing into a shop window.

"Excuse me madam?" The woman turned from the window revealing her thin tired face and gaunt body. Her low cut dress had dirt speckled onto it and her skin appeared almost multi-coloured from the grime. Typical of the people in Whitechapel, depressing but typical.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Uh do you know of a Mary Jane Kelly?"

"Oh! Fair Emma! Why do ya ask? Lookin' for her services perhaps? A strapping young fellow like you havin' problems with the ladies," she chuckled "if you were a tad bit older I'd take ya for me self, yes I would!"

"WHAT? I'm not looking for her bloody services, I'm a gentleman! Gentlemen, like me, do not partake in such a thing! And I am NOT having problems with ladies; I just… haven't found the right one yet! Now would you quit your infernal laughing and give me her bloody address!"

"Calm yourself, I'm only joking with ya lad. You know comedy!"

"Save the comedies for Shakespeare."

"Well, aren't you stiff? Now I see why you're havin' problems with women. Fair Emma lives out on 13 Millers Court off Dorset, yes she does."

"Thank you SO very much." I mumbled sarcastically. I honestly do not know how anyone could mistake me, a gentleman, for some sleazy tosspot that would perform such an obscenity. Now if I were to look like Francis then that would be a completely different story.

The sun rose, only to be blotted out by the thick grey clouds in the sky, as I searched for the address. Time was off the essence, so there isn't a moment to lose. I pulled my pocket watch from my vest, the second hand rhythmically ticked around the face as the time continued to slowly ebb away. 10:30. Damnit!

Raindrops slowly started descending from the sky and a very light layer fog had soon begun to blanket the streets and alley ways as I looked for 13 Millers Court. Millers Court was a collections of housing along a narrow alley way. Immediately stepping into the darkness of the alley, an eerie presence lurked among the shadows. To accompany that, I had the strangest feeling of Déjà vu, like I had been here before. A small light above a door at the far end of the alley penetrated through the dark and foggy weather. With no other option but to venture forward, despite the eerie feeling, I cautiously made my way further down the alley, examining the doors along the way. Cold raindrops fell onto my face and slowly worked their way down to my chin as my brain went over why this locating seemed oh so familiar. Yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Left foot in front of right, I made it to the door of Mary Jane Kelly when it hit me.

The dream of Francis! It all came back, all the blood, the insanity, and the location. In the dream the alley I walked through was so very similar, the end of the lane wasn't blocked off by buildings in the dream, but the grey colours and ridged textures were one in the same. In that dream I had found the Ripper, but paid the price for it; I was stabbed with a scalpel through the heart. Does this mean I will-?

"My god." I whispered to myself. Dark scarlet fluid leaked from underneath the door I was standing in front of, and seeped out onto the ground, staining it in red. My body shook and trembled from watching that wretched colour slowly transform into a dark brown and clump together, becoming as thick and sticky looking as syrup.

The door then swung open, letting loose the strong and putrid smell of blood into the thick air. Standing in the doorway, as blood soaked as a butcher, was Jack the Ripper, Dr Gull.

On seeing me his features twisted into surprise and shock and his mouth twitched and jerked awkwardly, chocking to find the right words to speak. I burned with anger. It raged and welted inside me like Mt. Vesuvius ready to explode. To know a fucker like this was under my nose, this WHOLE time… it's … it's… unforgivable.

"Arthur!" He said in an urgent tone "I, I came here on hearing screaming coming from this building and found this woman butchered. There was nothing I could,"

"Cut your shit Jack! You… you oozing sore of depravity! You have dishonoured this country, and dishonoured the Queen, and it is my duty, and personal pleasure, to make sure unhinged little fucks, like you, painted in crimson blood are brought to justice. Jack the Ripper, or should I say Dr. William Withey Gull, in the name of the Queen, this sovereign country, and in the name of justice, I here by arrest you for the brutal murders of Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, and victim number five lying in a pool of crimson blood, Mary Jane Kelly!"

Jack tiled his head towards the ground and laughed ominously, and unsettling; it made my stomach turn.

"You really think you can put an end to me? Put an end to me purifying London from those whores?" He asked me as a Glasgow smile grin spread across his face. He popped his head up just enough for me to see his large protruding eyes glaring and burning right at me, before he spoke up once more.

"I'm doing what I do for the sake of this country and I'm not about to let some silly detective hero want to be like you stop me!" He pulled an eight inch scalpel from his coat and with speed and accuracy; he lunged towards me with the blade and attempted to plunge it through my throat. I caught his wrists, keeping the blade suspended above my throat. He exerted more force upon the scalpel as I struggled to keep it away from my skin. My eyes teared up and muscles began to weaken. _Well Arthur old chap, this seems to be the end of the line._

"Arthur! Hey Art you here?" A voice cried out in the distance. Just my luck! Jack, distracted by the voice, loosened up just enough for me to slip away. In a matter of seconds I mustered all the strength I had and punched Gull square in the face, sending him and the scalpel flying backwards, rendering him unconscious.

The voice from before, Alfred, arrived upon the scene immediately after, brandishing a Remington M95 Double Derringer at Gull's cataleptic body.

"Now where'd you get that?" I asked him while laughing faintly out of relief.

"Ha I always keep my pistol on me! Its easily concealed you've never noticed it." He turned his gaze at me and flashed a large smile. "Oh and by the way the police are on the-ACK!" Gull, from the ground, kicked the American's stomach hard, loosening his grip on the gun and pried it from his hand. Jack aimed the gun at my head and I stared deep down the barrel of that gun; the end of the line.

"ARTHUR!"

BANG! I fell to the ground hard, rolling over to my left and hit my head against the pavement. I opened my eyes slowly and felt myself quickly for blood or a bullet hole. None. I was left unscathed… If it didn't hit me then what did-

"No! No! OH GOD NO! ALFRED!" I screeched from the top of my lungs. The Ripper ran out of the alley, taking the gun with him and leaving Alfred standing there, eyes empty and fixated straight ahead of him, clutching his stomach. Blood spread through the fabric of his shirt, like the ripple effect from casting a stone into a pond. Alfred's mouth was gaped and his entire body trembled and shook as he crashed to his knees.

My throat tied into a knot and tears spewed from my eyes as I ran to the fallen man and cradled his limp body in my arms. He looked at me in pain, his dull blue eyes meeting my reddening green, and tried to stutter out words.

"Shh. You're going to be alright Al. T-try not to talk." More tears fell from my eyes as I ripped a strip of my shirt off to stop his bleeding. I undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the bloody muscles of his abdomen, and applied the cloth to the hole in his body. He cringed as I put pressure onto it. Alfred's dulled eyes were now half way shut and welted with tears and intense pain. His mouth slightly moved again, trying to form words. A small crackling sound came from the back of his throat and before he muttered 'Arthur' so quietly almost to the point of inaudibility.

"Please… please Alfred... please don't leave me." The rain and my tears, one in the same, dripped onto Alfred's weak body. I pressed his head close to my chest as I kept my hand and cloth on the bleeding skin of his stomach. His breathing shallowed and heart beat grew faint. Alfred F. Jones muttered my name one more time before closing his teary lifeless eyes.

"ALFRED!"

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><p>AND CLIFF HANGER!MUAHAHAHAHA :-D Sorry a bit mean was it not?<p>

So that was depressing to write. But Alas It's not the end of the story. More will awaiting and will be posted ASAP! Let me know what you guys thing! Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! :)


	8. Chapter 8

So I believe this will be the very last chapter. Please please please let me know what you guys think! Im VERY shaky on this chapter. I don't know if it seems too obvious or lame... I dunno, but if it's crap let me know and I will re-do it. I really hope you guys like this last chapter. I may or just may not do a sequel depending on what you guys want. So feel free to let me know! Enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

The memory was burned fresh into my head; Arthur undoing my shirt to stop the bleeding, the intense pain in my stomach, and the blood that I loathed so much to see, now painting the pavement underneath me. The more and more the crimson blood dripped, the more I wanted to shut my eyes to get rid of the pain and the light headedness I felt, if only for a moment. And so I did.

When I reopened my eyes, I was standing in the same alley that seemed to be frozen in time. The rain still fell from the cloudy sky, only in slow motion, onto two figures huddled close together; Arthur and I. I was viewing Arthur leaning over myself dabbing at my stained abdomen. What was this? Purgatory? Or am I a ghost? (God I hope not, ghosts scare the shit out of me!)

I walked closer to the two figures and watched Arthur cry over the limp body in his arms. I had to admit, seeing Arthur like this brought tears to my eyes. I haven't seen him cry like this since… that time. It was raining then too when I left Arthur, with his rifle lying at his side, crying and cursing in the middle of a battlefield. That was the day I won my independence.

All this time I was sure he hated me because of that event. Or at least that's what I believed to be true, up until now. You don't cry over people you hate, and that's precisely what Arthur was doing. But that's one of the things bothering me, why doesn't he hate me?

Policemen rushed on the spot, when Arthur's mouth moved (which all words uttered by him and the police were inaudible to me, curious enough.) and he motioned the group of policemen to where the ripper ran off to. As they moved off to apprehend the ripper, a few police men, including Abberline, stayed behind. Abberline franticly mouthed inaudible words to Arthur as he knelt down across from him. He looked scared when Abberline placed his pointer and middle finger on my neck to feel for a pulse.

Tears welted in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks making it near impossible to see the faces of the two Brits. I didn't want to die… I really didn't, but I prefer it me than Arthur. Even though I had thought he hated me, I liked him, a lot actually. And I know I couldn't bear to be the one leaning over his body. Besides, Arthur is more important in this world. I mean look how great he and his country have become. England is the most powerful country to date! That's something I strived to make my country, great. Speaking of my country, what is to become of my states? Is my absence going to make a difference? Is my country gonna even notice I'm gone? I don't know if they will… but it has to be better me than him. I sniffed, brushed away the tears from my cheeks, and whispered,

"I'm sorry I left you again Arthur. I'm so sorry."

I closed my eyes and the dark reddened alley way turned pitch black as I began to fall. The wind rushed through my hair like a breeze in a field of wheat as I gathered momentum from the fall. And it stayed that way for a long time. It felt as if I where free falling into a black abyss.

View Change

The police caught William Gull surprisingly quick. He put up a good fight, according to Detective Wittenberg, one of the members of the yard present at Jack's arrest.

Gull was now locked into a room specifically for interrogation. I begged to be let in just to ask him a few questions; many however didn't quite think that was the best thing for me to do after all that had just accord. Being as persistent as I am, I eventually got my way with one condition. Another officer had to accompany me.

"So Jack," I hissed with venom in my voice as Abberline and I walked into the dimly lit room. "Care to tell me why in God's name you killed as many people as you did?"

He sat there, restrained to the chair, quietly before he responded.

"Why would I tell you if I haven't told any one else? Do me a favour and fuck off." I raised my hand and struck Gull on the cheek. A bright red handprint swelled on the side of his face as his head drooped downwards towards his feet.

"Don't you dare speak to me like in such a manner! Now I want answers and I want them now!" I yelled as I slammed my hands on the table between us. He lifted his sweaty head up to me and smiled.

"To benefit this country obviously." Now more infuriated then before, I whipped out from behind the table and nabbed Gull by the collar of his shirt. As we made eye contact I threatened,

"I swear, if you don't tell me everything I want to know I will have you executed, whether it'd be from my hands or hands of another. Believe you me when I say you do NOT want to be testing me right now!"

"Threatening me with death now, are we? Well then, I guess that makes you no better than me."

"SHUT UP! I'm nothing like you!" I yelled in disgust as I let go of Gull's collar and pushed him back. Soon after I took a few steps back, he began to laugh slowly before he replied,

"So you really want to know. Well, you see, good sir, it involves illegitimacy."

"What? What do you mean by illegitimacy?"

"Prince Albert! The Queen's son! The lad has a fancy for those whores!"

"W-what?" I stammered. I could feel my mind freezing over, unable to process the information fed to me.

"That's correct! And now you can't tell a bleeding soul!"

"And why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Think about it Arthur. How would that look on the Queen's part if this scandal broke loose through London? Hm?"

"You… You fucking bastard! I'll make sure you rot! You'll burn in Hell!" I lunged forward and clamped my hands around his throat, wanting him to suffer the sting of death he has brought to so many people.

"ARTHUR!" Abberline yelled angrily as his pair of hands lifted me from Jack's throat. Gull's chokes for air were drowned out by Abberline's scolds.

"Bollocks Arthur! What the hell where you doing?"

"Didn't you hear what he said?" I retorted "He abused his position and power to murder! And now we can't even give our own citizens the security of knowing Jack the Ripper is off the streets because he used OUR MONACHY to his benefit!"

"Come with me Arthur." He said sternly as he led me out of the room and the Scotland Yard building. I can't believe he is staying so calm like this.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Away from here." He replied monochromatically as we walked down the sidewalk away from the yard. He continued "Arthur you know our job is done right? We played our part and now is the time to let the Yard do their part to lock Gull up. It will be quiet and unannounced but he'll be jailed none the less. Playing executioner isn't going to do you any good Arthur. As much as I'd love to get revenge upon him for everything he's done, we can't. Alright?" I sighed while thinking about what would've happened if I actually did murder him and I guess Abberline is right. Again. We both continued to walk along the sidewalk in silence before I spoke up.

"Abberline?"

"Hm?"

"Listen, I think I should be going now. There is someone I need to go see." He smiled before he spoke.

"Say no more Arthur. I will meet up with you soon."

"Thanks." I replied as I walked off from Abberline, now worried in replacement of anger.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo View Change

"Mmm...hmm... Huh?" I took a deep breath of air as I jolted up from where I was laying. An itchy blanket fell off of my body, revealing my bare chest wrapped in a gauze around the bullet wound, which hurt like hell to be honest. I lied back down in the bed as I gazed around at my surroundings, curious to know where I was and when in the world did I stop falling. I was lying in a small bed (not the most comfortable I have to add. Far to stiff for my pleasure.) and to the right of me was a small nightstand with my glasses set on it, which I immediately snatched and slid onto my face. Next to the nightstand was a window looking out to a rainy London, and across from me was a row of vacant beds pressed up against a wall. I jerked my arms slightly, hoping to stretch out a little, when I realized a smaller hand was cradling the top of my larger left hand. My eyes quickly scanned up the hand and arm to see a very familiar face; Arthur's face.

Arthur was slumped over fast asleep in a very uncomfortable looking chair next to my bed. Arthur's nose looked red and eyes puffy and irritated, a common side effect of crying. I wriggled my hand free from his light grasp and pushed myself into a sitting position, much to my own discomfort. The bullet wound throbbed so much more when I moved. It was like being sore after exercising for the first time in ages, only multiply that by twenty and add a solid punch to the gut. I grunted quietly as I clutched the damn wound, which must have stirred the sleeping Brit.

"hmm… Al? …. Alfred!" The British man yelled in excitement as he leaped from the chair as quick as lightning and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Alfred you damn wanker idiot! Why would you do that? You scared me to death! To bleeding death you prat!" He pulled apart from my neck and gently kissed my forehead before retracting completely. I felt my cheeks flush a bright red and the warmth radiating from my skin.

"Well," I began with Arthur's eyes fixated on me. "I'd rather it be me lying here instead of you Art." The Brit's bottom lip quivered as his eyes began to swell with salty translucent tears.

"Arthur? What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's just, no one has ever shown me kindness as great as this before." And he's probably right about that too. Arthur's life had been rough, especially his childhood. Ever since he was young he had tormented by his brothers, he never went into detail about it around me, but I knew it had to be tough. Then there were all of the wars he has been in. Some short, others incredibly long, like the 100 year war between him and Francis. (Which explains their animosity for each other.) So in a certain sense, I'm not too surprised he said that.

"And I would gladly do it again." I responded with a smile. What I said wasn't a lie either. I would never let Arthur get wounded or die, not on my watch.

"Don't you dare!" He snapped back at me and slapped the back of my head.

"Ow!"

"I don't know what I would do if I had actually lost you." He said a little more sedately as his emerald eyes trailed from my pale blue eyes and down to my bandaged stomach.

"So what's the damage?" I questioned.

"Well, if you were a normal human being you would have very easily bled out, thankfully you're not. Then again, even if you were a normal human being I'm sure you would've still been ok. With the amount of food you eat I don't think even a bullet could penetrate your stomach."

"You jerk." I said while grinning, "And Jack?"

Arthur frowned and shifted away from me.

"Caught."

"That's great to hear! You seem angry though… is something wrong? Isn't this a good thing?"

"Not when all of this has to be kept secret from the world."

"What?"

"Gull killed prostitutes because of the prince. He, uh, took fancy to them. So to keep the royal family pure, he killed them. Now to get to the point, if news broke out, how is a royal scandal going to look on the Queen's part?"

It pissed me off to hear the misfortunate news. After all we've been through to catch this guy and now we can't tell anyone? So not heroic.

"So what does this mean for us now?"

"We're finished. Our job is done, or at least that's what Abberline said." Arthur said disappointedly.

"Oh, I see." I replied in an equally disappointed tone.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Is something the matter?"

"Well yeah, you just told me Jack the Ripper has to be kept a secret forever."

"No not that! I mean is something else bothering you? It seems like there's something else."

"Actually there are some things that are bugging me…" I paused as Arthur stared at me with curiosity.

"You see; when I closed my eyes… eh… here let me ask you a question first. Abberline came and checked my pulse right?"

"Yes, but how-"

"I saw it all play out! I can't really explain it but I saw myself. I didn't know if I was a ghost or what! I can't seem to make sense of it." England pondered over what I just told him. I figured if anyone would know what I saw, it would be England. After all he is into all that paranormal stuff.

"Al, have you ever heard of an Astral Projection?"

"What's that?"

"It's an out of body experience. You detach from your physical body and see everything going on in your surroundings, even travel to different places."

"Is it normal to hear nothing? I couldn't hear anything you or anyone else for that matter."

"I'm not entirely sure Al, but that is my best guess."

"Ah, okay."

"Is something else the matter? You still seem confused about something." To be honest the 'why the hell didn't he hate me' thought was what was bothering me, but should I really ask?

"Come on Al, what's wrong? You can tell me."

"Arthur, you were crying. Not just when I was shot but before you woke up your eyes were puffy. You had to have been crying." He raised his bushy brow at me in confusion before he spoke.

"So you're upset and bothered because I shed a few tears?"

"No, not that! It's just… you're not suppose to cry over people you hate. After all we've been through in the past, I was sure you hated me." I flushed a bright red again and tilted my head down towards the itchy green blanket covering my waist and legs.

"Alfred F. Jones you thought I hated you?"

"Well, I mean I did. Not any more but I just don't know why you don't." I DID break away from him, fight two wars against him and win, and I annoy the shit outta him, he has every right too.

"I'm sorry if I made it seem that way Alfred."

"You're still not answering my question! Why don't you hate me?"

"Listen, even though we've had it out for each other in the past, Alfred I never stopped caring for you. It may have changed over the years, but it never stopped."

"Thanks Arthur." I lifted my head and smiled as I pulled him into an embrace. (Though it may have been a little awkward because I was trying not to bump my stomach too much against his.)

Arthur stayed with me for the rest of the time I was there in the hospital, with my hand in his; the stay was a little more bearable. (Though he frequently got angry at me for wanting to move around sooner than I was ready.) For once, in all the time I spent here in London, I felt happy, truly happy. And if I had it my way I would have froze those moments in time, even if it was only for another moment. Though I hurt and ached, on the flip side I felt how anyone should, like a hero.

"Thank you Alfred." Arthur said with a faint smile, "Thank you for helping me, even if I didn't want it and I put you through hell. Thank you."

* * *

><p>So Whaddya think? Yay or Nay? I hope you all liked the story I had to tell! Speaking of stories, yes to the sequel or no? I have a pretty decent idea of what I want to do with it. I just want to know if anyone actually wants to read more about Jack the Ripper. So let me know!<p>

I just want to say thanks too! Thank you all for the support, the fun reviews, and taking the time to read my stories! I hope you'll read the other stories I have in stored! I'll be writing loads more to come! Thanks once again! I hope you enjoyed it!

-Nash Stone


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